Turn
by JadedMara
Summary: An SW/ST:Voyager crossover with a jadedmara twist...


jadedmara@aol.com "Turn" by Jen Bakht 

A Star Wars/Voyager crossover that's kinda a takeoff of "Turn of the Screw." Kinda. Main characters: Tom Paris, Mara Jade, Ahna Jade Skywalker, Kathryn Janeway, Luke Skywalker. Rated S+ for heavy silliness and seriousness. (There's no in-between with this one...) 

Star Trek: Voyager and its characters are (c), TM, etc of Paramount and UPN. 

Star Wars and its characters-- (c),TM, etc of Lucasfilm, Bantam Books, Boulevard Books, Del Ray, etc, etc. etc. 

Other Stories: "Goldiluke and the Three Bears", and the five stories of what I call the Diagonal Universe Series (not in order of stories written but in chronological order): "Jade", "Always Chasing After You", "Enjoy the Meal (or else!)", "[Insert Pretentious Title of Choice], this one("Turn"), and now I'm working on "Reflections of You: A Celebration of Womanhood in the Solo-Skywalker Family". (It take place circa the first two chapters of Turn, not 20 years later.) 

Ahna Jade Skywalker, Nerple, and Naima and assorted Senators are mine (as are Ensign Sharon Kays, Crewman Matt Ridot, Lieutenant Marissa Tomas, and the charming Crewman Jomez Cruz.) 

I'd like to thank Tess Williams, who has offered me encouragement and advice throughout my writing of this story; my beta testers SETStarz and DeadPool; Hiroko, who was around for the beginning of this story and offered support for this and for Enjoy the Meal (or else) 

And finally people, do you think anybody'd pay for this story? (Just the same, remember to keep this heading and my name if you decide to copy, post, or send this story anywhere else.) 

By the way ..it starts out with horrible writing, but IMHO it gets better as it goes along, so give it a chance. Please? 

I'm not much of a fan of crossovers,but I feel as though I have to try every genre at least once. So here is my attempt. I wanted to write a fic dealing with my two fave characters of all time, Mara Jade and Tom Paris, but, since Mara's taken (and a story is just sooo much better when there is a love interest involved) I decided instead to use Ahna Jade Skywalker, her daughter. Hey, two blonde imps. Who could ask for more? PS..I haven't read Mosaic, so anything KJ says about her past of course does not mesh with the book. (Remember: Willing suspension of disbelief . . .) 

Chapter I 

In a galaxy far, far, away (GFFA) 20 years ago --Imperial Palace (Coruscant) 

"Ahna! Ahna!" Leia sighed with exasperation as her niece proceeded to pour yet *another* cupful of water on her carpet.She ran to the blonde imp and distantly wondered if her brother was just as mischievous when he was his daughter's age. *No wonder his uncle was worried about his turning to the Dark Side* she thought cynically. 

Corran Horn snorted gently. "She's got her mother's sense of humor," he noted. Leia turned back to Ahna and realized what he was talking about. The little three-year-old stood there with cocked eyebrow, half-smile, and her glass defiantly tipped half-angle. 

"I swear, I rue the minute I promised Mara I'd take care of Ahna until she and Luke could show up. Maybe I should ban anything under the age of sixteen from my parties." She stopped as Ahna coughed to get her attention. "Auuunnnttie. Watch me!" She carefully put her glass down, did a somersault, then picked the glass up again, again pondering it contemplatively. 

"My goodness, she doesn't give up, does she?" asked Corran's wife with an amused air. In response, Ahna turned to Mirax and gave her a decidedly rude raspberry. Of course, the whole room tittered. *Well, that's harmless* thought Leia. She breathed a sigh of relief, until Ahna crept closer and closer in response to Mirax's encouraging smile. Closer, and closer . . . 

And water poured in a smooth, slow motion down Mirax's shirt. 

"Aaaaaaaagh!!" gasped Mirax. 

"Oy," groaned Leia. ______________________________________________________ In a quadrant far, far away (DQ) 10 months ago -- Holodeck Three (USS Voyager) 

Chaotica groaned as he spotted his nemesis. "Be warned, Chaotica, I'll thwart your evil plans, to be sure!!!" Captain Proton swung his mighty fist in anger, punctuating his cry with a self-righteous stomp. 

Chaotica smiled an evil smile. "Well, Proton, all I have to say is this." He raised his hand in a symbolic gesture typical to his time. 

Proton groaned. "Computer, pause simulation. Chakotay, man, you gave me the finger! That's just plain rude." 

Chakotay shrugged off his monochrome "dark lord" gloves. "Just making use of that twentieth-century database you set me up with, Tom." 

"Well, it doesn't fit into this simulation. Early-twentieth century mores didn't allow for vulgarity on the silver screen. You'd be running into some major censorship with that one." 

Chakotay raised an eyebrow. "Paris, you sound positively whiny. Did Mommy forget to give you a treat today? Or should I say, did B'Elanna forget to give you a bone?" 

Tom whistled appreciatively. "Not bad on the vulgarity, Chuckles, not bad at all. I might convert you yet. But no, status unchanged. Torres and I are broken up. No ifs, ands, or buts about it. She doesn't want me anymore." He sighed, trying to push Chakotay's pity away. "Hey, she wasn't exactly easy to be with anyway. Besides, what better way to get rid of pent-up frustration than getting this simulation re-running and creating some havoc?" 

"Paris, I bet you were a handful as a kid." 

"You kidding? I was a little blond devil." ___________________________________________________________ GFFA -- 20 years ago Imperial Palace "Where's my little devil?" Mara smiled as Leia turned enthusiastically at Luke's booming words. Ahna must have given her a hard time today. 

"Daaaaaadyyyyyyy!!!!" Thirty weight units of blonde fluff flung herself into her father's arms, face transformed into angelic formations, green eyes brimming with crocodile tears. "I missed you soooooo much." 

Mara rolled her eyes as Luke spun his daughter in the air. She knew better than to believe her. She was *her* daughter for goodness sake. Even worse, she was a Skywalker. Looking at Leia's exhausted face, she concluded that the Skywalker rambunctious gene had asserted its power over the Skywalker diplomatic gene in little Ahna. 

"Oh, poor baby, did Auntie Leia give you a hard time?" Luke cooed. 

Ahna nodded with all the wisdom of a three-year old. "Yes, Daddy, but I forgive her. That's the Jedi Way." 

Mara swore she heard a collective groan from Leia's guests. She walked over to her daughter. "Hey, sweetie," she whispered gently. Rambunctious or not, she was her little girl. 

"Hi Mommy!" she grinned in a squeaky voice. She wiggled out of her father's arms, and began stomping around and spinning in a crazy dance. She weaved and bobbed and occasionally kicked a random party-goer. 

"Um, Ahna sweetheart . . ." Luke began. Leia walked away, obviously glad to hand off the responsibility. Ahna stuck out her tongue. 

Mara sighed. "Just let her go. She won't stop until you ignore her." 

Luke sighed as well. "Mara, she's getting too hyper." 

"Fine, I'll deal with it," she growled, walking toward her little girl. Her pace quickened as Ahna began to use the Force to fling objects off the table. "Ahna," Mara said warningly, "What did Daddy and Mommy say about using the Force without permission? Ahna! That's your cousin Jaina's trophy." 

"Cousin Jaina is a pottyhead," cried Ahna triumphantly. "I hate her." 

"No, you don't, young lady." Mara's temper began to flare. It didn't matter if Ahna didn't know what she was saying. It reflected poorly on her parents. 

"Yes, I do!" she shot back. "I hate her! And I hate Auntie Leia and I hate my toy and I hate that smelly lady in the hoverchair who always kisses me and I hate. . ." 

Mara buried her head in frustration and hoped that Mon Mothma missed that last comment about the "smelly lady". "Skywalker, can you and your Jedi calm *please* handle this?" 

Luke went over to his daughter, gently put his arms around her. She responded by punching him hard on the chest, repeatedly chanting "Hate, hate, hate . . ." As the other guests looked on, Luke carried her over to a sofa and held her firmly, mummering soothing words to calm her down. 

Eyes closed in exasperation, Mara sunk into the adjoining couch and leaned back her head. *It's typical three-year old behavior, right? I mean, it has to be. No other explanation.* But as she watched her husband whisper gently to her daughter, a sense of disquiet fell over her. And no matter how much she tried to get the ol' Jade practicality up and running again, she couldn't rid herself of the cold chill that prickled her body. 

Luke continued to gently rock his daughter to sleep. _____________________________________________________ DQ - 8 months ago Briefing room 

Voyager rocked, and not very gently. 

"We've hit another one, Captain," Culhane called from the bridge. 

"Understood, Ensign. You know what to do. Keep us posted." Janeway cut the comm and turned back to her senior officers. 

"Obviously, you know what this meeting is about. We need to avoid running into these resistance pockets. Either that, or we need to detect-and-destroy before we find ones even larger in magnitude. According to conn reports, our policy of suspending the warp core and coasting through is killing our engines." 

Seven of Nine stood up. "I believe I have outlined my suggestions. We already have found that a particle beam, properly modified, can detect the pockets. If we merge that beam with charges similar to proton torpedoes, we should be able to neutralize the threat." 

Harry frowned. "The plan would work...unfortunately, we lack the technology to stabilize the beam." Janeway looked around the room. "Suggestions." Tom jumped in. He was in his element. "This is exactly what I've been trying to introduce in our past few briefings. My latest project will solve all of your problems." "Oh boy," sighed B'Elanna. "This is gonna be good," grumbled Harry. Janeway: "I'm afraid to ask." "Uh huh," said Chakotay, rolling his eyes. Now it was Tom's turn to look around the room. "Hey, c'mon people. Remember the Delta Flyer? I'm on a roll." The Doctor leaned in toward Tuvok. "Let's hope there aren't any water planets nearby," he whispered. "I heard that." Tom leaned back. "Anyway, ladies and gentlemen ... and Neelix ... let me present to you my baby. I call it the PreModulated Systematic HyperOperating Relay. AKA, the PMS HOR." Chakotay coughed. B'Elanna shook her head. Harry grinned. Janeway put her head in her hands. "I don't suppose you could change the name?" 

"Captain! That's sacrilege! PMS HOR is a _very_ distinguished name...in fact, a very distinguished species. Hell, I should know. I used to live with one." He looked pointedly at his ex. 

B'Elanna cut off Harry's smirk with a glare. "How does it work?" she asked, clenching her teeth. 

"Oh, well, let's see. It sleeps, it eats, it refuses to clean the quarters ... but back to the machine." 

"Tom ... " Janeway massaged her forehead. She couldn't remember why she used to think he was hilarious. 

Tuvok raised an eyebrow. "Normally, Captain, I would recommend medicine for that headache, but the best remedy probably is to banish Mr. Paris from the room." 

"Tuvok, you made a joke!" Tom grinned insincerely. "Don't worry, Captain, I'm getting there." He launched into an explanation of his beam-governing robot, of how it would be able to literally suck the particles into place. "This baby's got a suction on it that could make it the ultimate vaccuum cleaner --hint hint." Tom winked at a very annoyed B'Elanna and waited for the titters to die down. " ... and so on and so forth. I know, I'm a genius," he finished. "So, we going for it?" 

Janeway smiled. "Very interesting, Mr. Paris." She smiled some more. She inclined her head in contemplation. She leaned in. She raised her head in anticipation of a nod. She said: "No. Dismissed." 

The words left Tom flat. He sat staring at her in dejection, as Harry muffled his voice with his hand and called, "Mayday! He's falling, Control. He's going down! Oh no! Crash landing! Crash landing!" B'Elanna completed the monologue with a crash pantomine, sound effects and all. 

The Doctor, getting up to leave, leaned over Tom. "Crash and burn, Ensign," he whispered. "At least you didn't kill anyone this time." 

Tom stayed behind. "Captain, can I talk to you for a second?" 

Kathryn Janeway sighed and searched desperately for her favorite coffee mug. *Give me strength...* "Mr. Paris, there really isn't time now. I need to find a way out of our dilemma." "With all due respect, ma'am ...er, Captain ... you could've saved yourself a headache if you had considered my plan." 

"Tom --" 

"Captain! Please! I don't understand why I've been nonexistant for the past few weeks! After 5 years ..." he stumbled, and looked away, biting his lip. His voice lowered. "I've done my time. I've integrated into this crew. I drove straight back into my duties after being in solitary *and* after being demoted ... are you still punishing me? 'Cause if you are, I've lost all respect." 

Eyes flashing, Captain Janeway whirled to face the officer she most respected herself. *I wonder if he's ever realized how high I hold him in esteem* she wondered. "*Mr.* Paris, can you tell me the error margin for recalibrating your little project after *every pass*? Can you explain exactly how to outfit your super vaccuum with a warp engine -- you don't think we should leave technology like that behind, do you?" Her voice softened, but it still carried a deadly quality. "I realize you're going through a tough personal time. But let me tell you something, Tom Paris. You don't need to formulate outlandish ideas to feel worthwhile." 

Kathryn's voice hardened once more. "Don't you *ever* accuse me again of holding a grudge. If you studied your data more carefully, you'd find that your project merely is in the embryonic stage, with fatal flaws. That, and your very unprofessional presentation left me cold to your idea. My sugggestion? Work a bit more meticulously on your numbers . . . and check your attitude at the door. Let's hope it works. Hmm?" She put her hands on her hips. "Dismissed." 

Tom looked at her contemplatively, opened his mouth, and thought better of it. He strode out, leaving Kathryn Janeway brooding, alone with the stars. 

_____________________________________________________________ GFFA - 20 years ago -- Imperial Square 

Mara sat in the dark, staring at the stars. She never used to look at the stars, Mara Jade; she saw them for what they were -- or what she thought they were -- gaseous balls that made great navigation aids. *But are they really? Or are they important because their light lives on, even if they themselves die?* She shook her head. *All right, Jade, enough of that. It's not like humans explode into supernovas when they die. Although Jedi _do_ disappear. I don't know.* She bit her lip. Life always seemed to get more complicated and ambivalent with Skywalker around. She was thinking more, instead of *doing.* She hoped her daughter wouldn't grow to be so uncomfortable with pondering life's mysteries. *Ahna ...* The days events rushed back to her. Skywalker, of course, saw nothing wrong with his daughter, but Mara just *felt* something. The curse of a mother's instincts... 

"You really brood a lot these days, Mar." Her man strode into the room, tan and grinning. Mara felt pale in comparison. 

"I wonder if my mother ever brooded. If she ever knew that her daughter would grow up to be a killer." Mara sighed, not with a long exhale, but with a short breath and little cry, as she choked down her anguish. She knew she was overreacting, being melodramatic...she just must have been missing the action that usually permeated her life. 

Wordlessly, and slowly, Luke Skywalker put his arms around her. "I could tell you that you're overreacting," he whispered. "But I have a feeling that you already know that. I can't solve this, sweetheart, especially because I think that we have a perfectly normal kid. All I can do is listen, if you're willing to talk." He kissed her ear gently. 

"I can't explain it Skywa -- Luke. It's just ..." she searched for the words. "Luke, it's instinct. Something's wrong with our little girl. No, it's not her actions that scare me. I know, she's being a little mischevous brat. But it's getting to the point that I begin hearing eerie soundtracks every time she smiles. Luke, I'm scared of my own daughter!" 

"Just because of today? Mara, do you realize how ridiculous you sound ... okay, sweetie, I know that's not helping. But every mom thinks sooner or later that she has a demon child on her hands! Jacen, Jaina, and especially Anakin were hoodlums. It's *normal*, Mar." 

Mara began to rock back and forth. "Luke, of course it's not just today. Did you know that last month, I saw her scratching symbols into the floor of Yavin? First of all, she had a vibroblade. A *three-year old* And she knew how to use it, and not to harm herself. And those scratches ... they looked like some kind of script to me. Don't shake your head at me! Humor my melodramatic moment, okay?" 

Mara heard Skywalker laugh, and knew that he was glad that his wife had finally seen her folly. She could sense him remembering when she wouldn't be caught dead acting the least bit unpractical. 

Mara, on the other hand, remembered screaming when she saw her daughter with a deadly weapon, and remembered grabbing her and holding her close, glad that she wasn't hurt. Ahna still seemed three years old at the time. Come to think of it, looking back, she seemed three years old the entire time Mara was with her ...except for that brief moment, when she didn't know her mother was there. One second, and it was enough to plant the seeds of suspicion in Mara Jade's mind. 

She sighed. "I know how to play devil's advocate," she said,wincing a bit at the phrase, "so don't worry about it. I know I'm crazy." She smiled for his benefit. "Hormones." 

*But then again, Skywalker,* she thought to herself, *one thing I've learned being married to you is that the Force is crazy." The Force. The wild Solo kids had only one Force-strong parent, and Anakin Skywalker's namesake was the scariest of them all. If the Force reacted so badly to Darth Vader's grandkid, how would it react to the product of a sometimes unstable Jedi Master and the former Emperor's hand? 

Mara looked back at those stars, whose lights were like the repurcussion of life's choices --endless, and immortal. Were they irresponsible to bring this kid into the world? 

_________________________________________________________________ DQ -- 8 months ago --Holodeck Two 

**"I'm not ashamed of you, Thomas," he had said. "I'm ashamed of myself. I'm ashamed that I brought you into this world."** 

Tom banged his fist on the bar in frustration. Normally, at this point, Sandrine would either jump up to hand the man his first drink of the night, or jump up to cut him off from any more drinks that morning. Then, no matter which situation, she'd settle herself down and cluck in sympathy at his story. 

But today Tom sat alone. If he wanted a mother hen he'd call Janeway; she loved meddling in his life. "But why?" he croaked. 

*Why would I keep talking to people and talking to people about Badass Owen Paris? That's what everyone wants me to do. Talk about it. About not feelng good enough. About my refusal to live up to my potential.* 

"Just you and me, Dad," he whispered. "One of these days, just you and me, *we* have to talk. You have to see -- what I've become. What I've accomplished." That's what he should have done, that day when his father banished him from the house. Not that he didn't deserve to be kicked out. What Starfleet Admiral would want to live with a court-martialed liar? But he shouldn't have turned tail and walked out of the door. 

But would talking to him have helped? At the very best, they would have made up -- *yeah right* he thought cynically --he would have not joined the Maquis, avoided prison ...and then avoided ending up on Voyager, the first place where he actually settled down, did his job, and made the Paris name proud. 

*So, I wouldn't have ended up on Voyager. I wouldn't have been able to again wear a Starfleet uniform. But I sure as hell would've felt better about myself.* 

And that was the point. Because no matter what he'd accomplished in the past five years, it was all falling apart. He was falling into his old patterns, and couldn't stop. Knowing that his father was proud of him would have prevented all that. 

*Or would it have?* 

Kathryn Janeway stood outside Holodeck Two, cursing herself for wearing her red dress. *I'm not young anymore, no matter how much I'd like to be.* 

She squinted. "Wait a minute," she said aloud, "since when did I ever consider 45 to be old? I thought I was supposed to believe 45 to be young when I hit it." 

But she knew when everything had changed for her. On Voyager, she was working with a young crew -- and the youngest and most inexperienced group of senior officers she had ever dealt with. *That, and the fact that it's lonely at the top, is enough to make me feel old.* 

"Shoulda worn my uniform," she moaned to the ceiling. "...But then again, *why*? Dammit, I'm 45 and I'm proud of it." The ceiling had no response. Useless. Kathryn checked to see if Sandrine's was running, and strode in. She was surprised to see Tom alone in the bar, and even more surprised to see him hastily wipe away the single tear that had dribbled down his cheek. 

"Uh..Captain!" he said, clearly flustered. 

"Tom," she acknowledged nonchalantly. "Where is everyone?" 

He shrugged. "I think Joe Carey started some kind of poker tournament." 

"I meant the holodeck characters." 

He shrugged once more. "Felt like being alone." 

"If you want me to leave ..." 

"Oh, no." Tom looked at her, raised his eyebrows. "Always glad to have you around, Captain. Of course, if you'd rather show off that dress someplace else ..." 

Kathryn blushed. "Is any woman off-limits to you? No, I actually wouldn't mind practicing my pool game with someone." 

"Practice!? Captain, I can't get over the last time you hustled us at pool." 

Kathryn looked her favorite ensign up and down appraisingly. "You're right. I'm good with balls." 

Tom spit up his drink. "Well, I guess *that* sets the tone for this evening." 

"Good," she said firmly. "I need the change. Any good gossip?" 

"Ah." Tom leaned back in his chair. "Gossip -- you break first," he interrupted himself, handing her a cue. She obliged with finesse. "Gossip, lessee," Tom continued. "Oh yeah, Kays and Carey -- an item now." 

"Ensign Kays? Sharon Kays from shuttle design? My goodness, funny as Joe is, she's a bit wild for him." 

"Hey, what can I say? Opposites attract. Maybe that's why B'Elanna and I didn't work out ...Ooh, I can make this shot." He aimed, hit ... miscalculated. Tom sighed with defeat. "We were both just too damn stubborn," he finished. 

"Like your father." 

"You always bring up my father." 

"It's fun to see you wince." 

"My father," he said, "would consider this a complete waste of time." 

"What Tom Paris ... playing pool or bonding with your captain?" she asked innocently. 

Tom grinned. "Both." He smirked. "Bonding, huh?" He waggled his eyebrows. "So that's what they're calling it these days." 

Kathryn rolled her eyes. "I'll have you know that Owen Paris and I bonded over many a game of pool. Where did you think I learned how to hustle?" "*My* dad?!" "Mmm hmm. Although I personally think he was better at darts." 

"So were you two? ... you know." 

Kathryn stared at him. "No. God no. We were friends, nothing more." She sighed. "Did you know that I probably wouldn't be where I am today without your father? And don't you make a crack about being lost in the Delta Quadrant. I'm serious. Young Kathryn Janeway may have been an up-and-comer, but she also was a cigarette-smoking, promiscuous, disrespectful ... leader with countless awards to that effect. I knew how to compartmentalize, let me tell you, but it still was hurting me. Badly. Owen Paris -- your father -- saw the good side of me, took me under his wing, gave me the responsibility everyone knew I could handle, and subsequently got rid of everything I hated about myself. Tom, he didn't purge my spirit. I've still got spunk. But he showed me how to use it effectively. And it worked." 

"Doesn't sound like Dad." 

Kathryn's voice lowered. "He changed after the Cardassians took him, Tom," she said softly. "Well, I for one remember another Owen Paris even before his little ordeal." 

She watched him sink the 8-ball in the corner pocket, and sat down. "Tell me," she said. 

________________________________________________________ GFFA -- 20 years ago -- Imperial Square 

"Tell me," she said, "how much you love me." 

The sky was beautiful ... purple ...so unusual for man-made Coruscant. So unlike the practical functionality of an Imperial world. The outline of the Imperial Palace from their apartment complex for once didn't serve as a garish backdrop to the planet. Instead, it was a point off of which the sun reflected. 

Luke hugged her tight. "Hmm. I love you? Really?" 

"Funny, Skywalker." 

Luke loved these moments, the gentle teasing that never reached the level of their usual biting sarcasm. It was a change from the routine -- a change to remind them that their usual banter was just that -- banter, nothing more. Sometimes, they got so into one-upping each other that they lost sight of the fact that they were teasing each other, and ended up with hurt feelings and resentment. *Sometimes, we just need touchstones.* It was like the peril of being undercover; one could get lost in a role. *And for some reason, Mara and I are always playing our roles.* 

Luke sighed. "Mara Jade, I love you so much that I want to pick a cloud from the sky and hand it to your dreams. I know that didn't make any sense, but hey, it's poetic." 

"I used to write poetry," she said regretfully. 

Luke whistled. *She looks like someone who would write poetry. I wonder if she would have ended up a poet if Palpatine hadn't gotten ahold of her?* 

"Learn something new every day," he said. *You* used to write poetry? When?" 

She looked at him. "While gouging out the eyes of curious Jedi," she deadpanned. 

To himself: *Nah. She wouldn't have ended up a poet.* 

Aloud: "Can't you be serious about anything?" 

Mara laughed out loud. "Luke, do you know that before I met you, no one would ever have accused me of not being serious *enough*? *You* bring out that side of me." 

Luke smiled. *Ah, she's in a good mood.* "Ditto. So, *did* you ever write poetry?" 

Mara sat down on the bed. A good shower had improved her mood and taken those silly notions about Ahna out of her head. "Actually," she said, "I did write poetry. Some were about the glory of the Empire. But some... some," she said wistfully, "were about me, searching for a place to call *home*. Not Coruscant, rather, Imperial Center, but a real home, where I'd feel complete." 

She looked up at her husband. "You're home to me. I've finally found him." *Maybe she had some relaxing red wine along with that shower. Two for two.* Luke took her hand. "I think I'm supposed to make some kind of joke here," he whispered. "What's keeping you? Felinx got your tongue?" *Damn. Lost the moment.* "Something like that." Mara twisted out of his embrace, as if she had just woken up from a stupor. "All right, Farmboy, let's go to sleep before we get all mushy." She always did that. Just when they were about to open up. The only person she seemed to truly show her heart to was Ahna. But no matter. She loved him -- that's all that mattered. *But that doesn't mean I can't goad her about it.* 

"What's wrong with mushy?" he whined. "Like Ahna says ...it's icky. I don't like icky." "One of these days ..." Luke sighed. *But hey, it was worth it to hear her say "icky."* "When I'm an old and tottering 65," she continued, "I'll give in to icky. Not now. Good night." Luke sighed again. He always sighed around her. *Her Sighness*. "Goodnight." 

Mara woke up to find her husband looking in her eyes. "Hey sweetie," she said, hugging him. She drew away suddenly. 

"My danger sense is going crazy," she said with dread. How did she know that danger was coming ....oh yes, the Jedi danger sense. She was a Jedi. 

"Mine too." He reached for his lightsaber. 

"Hey, where's mine?" Mara whispered. Did she have a lightsaber? Luke had given her a lightsaber. It was Vader's. She owned something of Vader's. 

Then she heard a voice. High pitched. Squeaky. Like a toddler's. "Hi, Mommy and Daddy" . 

*Omigod* Ahna was in the doorway with her lightsaber. She was smiling with -- an eerie sense of menace. Yes, that was it. She was eerie. 

"Ahna, sweetheart, put the lightsaber down," Mara called with a growing sense of panic. Panic. The Emperor's Hand didn't panic. But Mara Jade did. *Maybe if I pretend that I'm calm.* 

But it didn't work. Ahna advanced, slowly, surely. 

And they were backed into a corner. They? Yes, Luke was there too, backed up also, against the wall. *It's dark. It's so dark* They didn't know what to do. They? Yes, Luke didn't know either. But Luke knew everything. Didn't he? 

"Who are you," Luke said. *See, he knew what to do. He's calm. Luke will handle this.* Luke? Since when did she depend on anyone else? 

"Oh, I don't know" replied the creature. Creature? Yes, creature. It wasn't Ahna. Not her baby. 

Ahna's face distorted for a moment into a conglomeration of evil. Evil. Mara wasn't evil. Only the man who took her. But what about her baby girl? 

"Who do you want me to be?" "Ahna" pounced towards Mara. *Luke has to make a choice -- me or his baby? Of course, it's his baby. She'll live. I'm dead* -- And he cut Ahna down. 

*Luke cut Ahna down? For me. Yes.* *Ahna. Baby.* Outside, the sky was an entaglement of darkness. 

________________________________________________________________________ DQ -- 7 months, 3 weeks ago -- Holodeck One 

The wind made her hair a tangly mess. But for once, Kathryn Janeway didn't care. 

Or at least, that's how it looked to Tom. "I'm shocked," he said. "Hmm?" Janew -- er, *Kathryn* -- turned toward him as he navigated his BMW Z3 through the streets of San Fransisco. 

"You're actually having fun! And there's no coffee in sight!" Tom exclaimed, only half-joking. 

Kathryn raised a finger. "Don't count on that. I hear the coffee lattes here are heavenly." 

Tom brought the car to a smooth stop. "Well, Captain," he said with mock formality, "you might need to find that out for yourself. I'm supposed to see B'Elanna about those calculations you finally worked out." 

"Ah yes, my calculations. Quite interesting, especially to one versed in subspace theory as well as you. Now, these resistance pockets we're stuck in --" 

"Kathryn." Tom put his fingers to her lips. "Hush." 

She smiled ruefully. "The boredom meter is going off again, huh." 

He smiled back at her. "Big time." 

Kathryn pushed him away playfully. "Go." 

Instead of leaving, he responded, "So, am I ever gonna get re-promoted?" 

She sighed. *He's gonna be late.* "Don't tell me you've been brown-nosing all this time." 

"Me?! Kathryn, I'm shocked." 

"All right. Don't rule it out, Tom. You've been redeeming yourself. Just don't screw up." 

"Like I'd be able to prevent that. 'Screw' is my middle name, and no, I'm not being dirty, so don't thwap me." "Do you miss being a lieutenant?" 

"Hell yeah. I mean, my duties haven't changed a bit, but after five years, a guy starts to identify with a certain rank. Besides, I'm getting tired of the Doc and Chakotay smirking everytime they call me 'Ensign'." 

"They do enjoy that, don't they." 

She added, smiling, "You'd better go before Torres asks me to demote you to crewman." 

B'Elanna Torres stood, arms crossed, feet tapping, and watched Tom extract himself from Holodeck One. 

"Took you long enough," she said, impatient. 

"B'Elanna!" He looked surprised. Was that guilt she saw on his face? "Sorry, I was just in there with K -- the Captain. I'm not late for our meeting, am I?" 

"By about fifteen minutes." 

"And that's a ... big time difference?" 

She growled. "To someone who has as much to do as I do, yes it is! I don't understand why I need to work with you of all people on this anyway, and now you waste even more of my time? Excuse me if I seem just a bit hassled." She glared at him for good measure. 

In reality, she couldn't quite understand why the mere sight of Tom Paris raised her blood pressure to the boiling point. Was it his attitude, the way he seemed to direct every snide comment of his in her direction? It certainly wasn't professional contempt. *I have to admit that he's a damn good pilot. And engineer. Hell, even medic.* 

The only reason she could think of was that looking at Tom Paris brought back memories --too many. Good ones to boot. And she broke up with him. That made her angry. 

Furthermore, she had no reason to feel angry with herself. She was justified in breaking up with him to keep her sanity. Unfortunatly, she couldn't help being angry with herself. That made her even angrier. 

*Or maybe it's just that Tom is a royal pain-in- the-ass.* 

She turned her attention back to him. he had his hands raised in a mock defensive gesture. "Whoah, sister, don't get your ridges all in a bundle! I can't help it if you're not competent enough to tackle an engineering problem without my dazzling intellect." 

*Yup, definitely the last reason.* 

She chose to ignore his last comment and started walking in the general direction of the turbolift. 

She began: "We've been stuck in this region of space for almost a month. The faster we try to move, the more we're dragged in. Now, what the Captain and I have done is to work out a logarithm that can be applied to a search pattern. It works beautifully. For some reason, these resistance pockets are spread out in some sort of mathematical fractal." 

"Sounds simple enough to do a few calculations," said Tom, boarding the lift behind her. 

"Unfortunately, knowing where the pockets are won't be anough to get us the hell out of here. I need you --" she winced at the thought of needing him for anything. "--What I need for you to do is to use both your navigation and subspace engineering skills to find out how to extract Voyager from the pckets." 

"Avoiding the pockets won't be enough?" 

"No -- Tom, my theory is that we're in one huge pocket, and the little ones are just icing on the cake." 

"Ah, and PMS HOR just isn't cut out for the job." 

*That's it.* 

"Halt turbolift," B'Elanna barked, and she whirled on him angrily. "I don't know who the hell you think you are, but you are seriously --" 

"Belay that order," called Tom, and the turbolift started to move. "I was talking about the machine --" 

"*I'm* the superior officer here, and don't you forget it. Computer, belay *Ensign* Paris' order and halt turbolift! *You* are seriously pissing me off --" 

Tom sighed. "Kathryn warned me not to do that. Piss you off, that is." 

B'Elanna clenched her fists. "Kathryn?! Since when have you been on first name basis with the Captain?" 

Now it was Tom's turn to get angry. "What ... you don't think someone like her is capable of being friends with someone like me?" 

"I'm just wondering exactly how much of that legendary Paris charm you used on her." 

"For your information," he said tightly, "We became close after a long discussion in Sandrine's about 3 weeks ago. We have mutual respect for each other. Deal with it." 

"Me? I don't care. Do whatever you want." 

"What the hell's your problem? Don't tell me you're jealous." 

"Of you?" 

"No, of her. You can't stand someone else being my confidante after you." 

"Damn your ego. Being your confidante is like being mired in quicksand." 

"What did you say --" 

"Can't get it through your thick skull? You're sinking, Paris. And I refuse to be brought down with you. That's why I left." 

Tom closed his eyes briefly. "I'm ignoring that, because what I meant is that the word 'quicksand' just gave me an idea. Torres, *Voyager's* mired in quicksand. That's the key! You don't try to force yourself out of quicksand -- you need a lifeline. Something outside. Now, Voyager can't get out because it's too big. But --" 

"But a shuttle can," finished B'Elanna, giving in. "Specifically, the Delta Flyer." 

"If we can get some sort of beam ... or even a vacuum, like my original idea --" 

"We can fish our ship out. Tom, I hate to say this, but you're a genius. Truce?" 

"Truce. And you thought that ugly lab coat you cart around somehow would give you brains." 

B'Elanna screamed in frustration. 

__________________________________________________________________________ GFFA -- 20 years ago-- Imperial Square 

*Her mother woke up with a scream. Ahna hastily tiptoed away from her parents' bedroom. Her nightmare could wait. Mommy had a nightmare, and Daddy needed to make it better. Then they would help her. Mommy first.* 

Mara woke up with a scream. "It's just a dream," she sobbed, "thank the Force it's just a dream." Luke woke next to her, startled by the strong emotions emanating from his wife. He had *felt* the dream, known that something was wrong, but could not share in the dream or bring himself out of unconsciousness to wake his wife up. 

It scared him when Mara had dreams like that. Sometimes, they were Force dreams, prophecies which always managed to somehow disrupt their tranquil lives together. Other times, they were mere nightmares, gifts from fallen angels designed to scare, no more. But even the little scary dreams were powerful to Mara, a curse of her strong Force talents in communication and defense. That made it very, very hard to tell one from another. 

*Ahna stopped half-way to her room's door, and turned back. She could cuddle next to Mommy and Daddy, and then Daddy could help both of them at once. She was cold, so cold. Mommy and Daddy's flannel blanket would feel so good on her prickled skin. 

She listened at the door, and heard her Mommy crying. "Luke -- it was terrible," she was whispering. "So dark, so cold --" Cold? Her mommy was cold too? Maybe they had the same dream, the one about the nice boy with the beautiful eyes ... Ahna didn't like boys. They were icky. But in this dream she liked this boy, and he was so nice to her, but then something happened, and he went away. And it was Ahna's fault.* 

Mara took a gentle sip of the fresh water Luke brought to her side. "All I could remember," she gulped, "was the wind coming through our open window. And Ahna. Ahna was -- I can't remember anymore. All I know is that something was wrong with her, and she died. That's all I remember." 

"She was in danger?" Luke looked alarmed. 

"Yes, but not only her. We were too, but for some reason, I think that didn't mean us but the rest of the galaxy ...I don't know why that comes to mind. All I know is that something bad... well, *could* happen. It doesn't have to happen. But it's not in our hands." 

*It was terrible. No matter what Ahna did, the nice boy would have to go. Her undeveloped mind couldn't make sense of the things she saw, except that he was nice, and they played together. In the sandbox? That's the only place she had ever played with boys.* 

"Luke, it was a Force dream." 

"A Force dream? No, Mara, it couldn't have been. Did your dream seem prophetic to you?" 

"What do you mean, it couldn't have been? I've had Force dreams before. Do you think I'm not capable of having prophetic dreams?" 

Luke sighed, as usual. "Don't jump down my throat, Mar. All I'm saying is that prophetic dreams usually are remembered clearly by the dreamer. You, on the other hand, can only remember wind blowing. A Force dream doesn't have to be prophetic, but --" 

"So this one could be a Force dream that wasn't prophetic." 

"I don't think --" 

"Why not? You just said it was possible. I know I've never had a Force dream that wasn't prophetic, but there's a first time for everything." 

"Mara, I don't quite understand why you insist that this was a Force dream. You usually aren't so adamant about it." 

"Well, it felt like one. It was, Luke. I don't care what you say. It was." 

*Okay, I'll bite.* "So, what did it tell you?" 

Mara looked at him. "I don't know." 

"Then it wasn't -- never mind. We'll find out. Okay, sweetheart? We'll try." 

"That's all I ask." 

In all his years as a Jedi Master, Luke had never encountered a student who burst the theories on Jedi mysticism as well as his wife. Luke had learned to apply criteria, whether it was to find out if a student had potential as a Jedi or to find out if someone had just dreamt something prophetic. Mara, on the other hand, spurned criteria, maxims, codes, or anything else that set down rules and limits on what she could or could not believe. She believed that if it felt like something, it must be it, no matter how much the facts contradicted her. Sometimes, he wished that he had her faith. Sometimes. 

*Ahna tiptoed in to her parents' room. Daddy looked happy to see her. Mommy looked scared. Ahna didn't know why. Come to think of it, Mommy didn't know why. No matter. She jumped into their bed, grateful for the warmth of the two people who loved her the most.* 

__________________________________________________ DQ- 7 months, 3 weeks ago Ensign Paris' quarters 

B'Elanna was the one he had loved the most. But even her exotic looks couldn't compare to what he was seeing. She was blonde ... beautiful. Her green eyes glittered as her ethereal dress swayed in the wind ... where did the wind come from? No matter. Tom found himself hypnotized. Quicksand his ass. It didn't matter if he was sinking, as long as he could have visions like that. 

He knew it was only a dream. He knew he should have been dreaming about getting his girlfriend back. What sort of succubus was before him, that made him forget the only woman he had ever loved? 

And was forgetting her so bad? At least the pain of her leaving would be gone. At least he could revel in another's beauty. 

The question was: who was she? And would he ever find her? 

She winked at him, and blew a kiss. He caught it, mesmerized -- cradled it as if he held in his hands the secrets of the universe. 

CHAPTER II 

GFFA -- 20 years ago -- Coruscant North Pole 

"PASS THE SECRET! *CLAP CLAP CLAP*!" 

"That," sighed Mara, "is *so* ennervating." 

She and Luke were surrounded by a couple of eighteen to twenty-three year olds with nothing better to do than to play the stupid vacation games they had played when they were eight years old. It seemed a proven fact that people regressed as they reached a certain age. Not that Mara ever had had that luxury. But after being around her neice, nephews, and their significant others for as long as she had -- *eternity?* -- she felt an expert on late adolescence. 

*At least they're doing something constructive,* Luke sent to her. 

Mara rolled her eyes as she scooted in closer to her husband. "Ah, yes, constructive. Unlike Leia and Han, going off skiing and leaving us to babysit." 

It was sad, but true. Because of previous problems with rowdy university graduates, the tony ski-resort that the Solo-Skywalker family belonged to at the Coruscant North Pole could not allow a group of five teeny-boppers to stay alone surrounded by fast ski-cars and skunky beer. So, Han and Leia had decided to go skiing, their children wanted to stay home and drink, and Mara and Luke got the shaft. 

But Luke was right -- they were being constructive. It was the old game of Holophone -- with a Force twist. Instead of the object of the game being to whisper a secret one by one and hope to end up with the secret intact at the end, the trick was to control your mind so that you would send the secret to only one person at a time, forming a mental chain. Mental telepathy being on the broad band it was, the game actually was an effective training tool. Even drunk, Luke's students were doing him proud. "I can't believe that Ahna got to go with them, and I'm stuck here." 

"Mara, just relax and enjoy the down time." Skywalker -- he was too annoying today to be referred to as "Luke" -- looked up from his crosshatch puzzle. "Is there anything you can do? Wait a minute -- you're pretty close to the kids. Why don't you join in? You could teach them a thing or two about mental control." 

"I already asked. Jaina and Tenel Ka giggled and said something about pathetic hags and heart attacks." 

But Skywalker's suggestion had given her an idea. *If you can't go to the immaturity, make the immaturity come to you.* 

Lesse, with a little tweak here, a little thought pattern there -- 

Ahh, amatuers. They tried, but they couldn't hide there thoughts from a communications adept. Now, what sorts of crazy things were they passing around? 

Mara caught the thought sent from Jacen to Tenel Ka. Jaina had made it up, obviously, because she was grinning uncontrollably. 

She sent it to Skywalker. She knew it was safe; the bond between the husband and wife couldn't be broken by Leia, much less by a gaggle of giggling Gen Zed-ders. 

*You wouldn't believe the limerick they made up about Corran and his flight stick.* 

*Oh come on, Mara, it can't be that ba -- oh." 

"Mmm hmm.* 

*I wonder if people said stuff like that back when _I_ was Rogue Leader. * 

*Sweetheart, you didn't have Jaina in your squadron. Only she could be so cruel. And crude.* 

Skywalker grinned. "Is that why the two of you get along so well?" he said out loud. 

She ignored him. "Of course," she continued, "I'm sure people wondered --" 

Skywalker glared. *That wasn't worth answering. You know, by the way, I'm not sure you should be enroaching on their privacy like that.* 

*What privacy? They're teenagers. Besides, this is absolutely hilarious. Not only am I starting to enjoy myself, but I have new-found respect for their comic ability. You know, they might not be mere kids after all. They _are_ over eighteen ... I officially welcome them into the adult club.* 

Skywalker groaned. "Oh brother," he whispered. "Like Mara Jade's the model of adult behavior." 

Mara didn't hear him. She was too engrossed in the latest secret. Breaking Zekk's mental walls, she heard ... 

Damn. Lu --Skywalker broke her concentration. "Mar, what's a four letter word for dimwit?" 

Mara struggled to grab the thought thread back. "Luke." Ah, yes, there it was. "Yeah?" 

"Huh? -- oh no, I meant that was the answer. Wait a sec, will you?" "You aren't funny." 

"Of course I am ... ooh, you'll like this one, Farmboy," she promised. 

"What is that supposed to mean?" 

"You'll see," she said, and sent him the latest secret. 

*Raynar likes to have anal sex with corn and potatoes!?! No, I meant the answer to the crosshatch puzzle!* 

Mara apparently had forgotten that part of the joke, and waited for his response to the secret she had just sent him. 

Skywalker digested the words. "I hope," he finally spat out, "you were kidding." 

"Nope, kidding. Did'ya like it?" 

*For the record, I was a moisture farmer.* 

*Hmm, moisture's helpful.* 

He ignored her. "Mara, I don't like the kids making fun of a fellow Jedi like that." 

"Sky -- Luke, they're adults. They're funny. And Raynar's annoying." 

Anakin sat back. "DOLT!" he yelled. 

"Huh?" said about everyone in the room in unison. 

He looked at his uncle. "That was the word you were looking for. Oh, and by the way, we know we're hilarious. Thanks." 

Luke Skywalker and Mara Jade looked at each other. "Weren't we," he said, "about to call Tionne?" 

"Call Tionne? Yes, that was exactly what we were about to do." 

"Call Tionne. I think we should go now. That's a good idea." 

They made a hasty retreat. 

The kids -- young adults -- looked at each other. "That was a good guess, Anakin," said Jaina. 

"Thanks," he grinned. "I love doing that to them. They think I'm a Force genius." 

_________________________________________________________________ 

DQ -- 7 months ago -- Main Engineering 

"If he's such an engineering genius, why doesn't *he* come down here and work the minute details out?" 

B'Elanna affectionately put her hand on her assistant chief's arm. "Bless you, Joe Carey, bless you." 

He grinned. "You weren't saying that five years ago when you broke my nose. But really, please tell me that Paris is coming to this meeting? I don't think it's fair that he's getting so much credit for our plan without doing any work." 

"Well -- oh, hello Cruz. You're a bit early, but make yourself comfortable." B'Elanna watched the young crewman settle onto one of two tables and swing his feet gleefully. "Anyway, Joe, what I was about to say . . ." She whispered. "I can comfort myself with this: Tom may be hot stuff now, but please tell me I'm not the only one who's noticed his ridiculous immaturity for the past few weeks? I thought not. His main goal in life right now is to make sophomoric sexual jokes. Sooner or later, Mr. Big Man On Deck is going to turn into Cruz over there ... sad, lonely, child-like, and universally abhorred." 

Joe smirked and turned to watch Cruz curiously contemplate the workings of his bottom lip. "Strange little man. I kinda like him, to tell the truth." 

"I feel sorry for him." 

"Sorry for who?" Ensign Sharon Kays bounced in the room. "Hiya baby. I'm straight from the Astrometrics lab and ready to chart your course." She gave her boyfriend an amazingly chaste peck on the cheek. "Don't wanna get B'Elanna mad about PDA," she explained. 

Cruz looked up mournfully. "Personal Digital Assistant?" "Public Displays of Affection," explained the King of Acronyms as he strode into the room. Tom was followed by Harry and Seven of Nine. Marissa Tomas and Matt Ridot finally ran in a few seconds later. 

"Find a seat, everybody. In other words, find a table." B'Elanna leaned against a console. 

Joe went to take temporary command of the remaining late-working engineers. Seven stood. The other officers and crewmen looked at the two tables. They looked at Cruz on one, drooling and chuckling to himself. They looked at the other one, still empty. They all piled onto the empty one. 

B'Elanna raised her eyebrow. Tom kindly sat next to Cruz. 

Satisfied, she began the meeting. "We've been stalled for three weeks in our efforts to fish Voyager out of this pocket of space -- yes, we have determined that the individual pockets actually comprise one large -- extremely large -- pocket. Our main problem? It's not as easy as it looks to get the Delta Flyer out. We need to outfit it --" She sighed as three more crewmen joined the group. "I guess Janeway's finally realizing we need all the help we can get," she muttered. 

"Okay," she continued. "We need to outfit the Delta Flyer with a propulsion system that will enable it to leave our large resistance pocket, without -- and here's the rub -- without disrupting this area of space so badly as to cause the pocket to collapse, leaving Voyager still trapped inside. Simulations have shown that the Flyer's regular drive just won't cut it. Suggestions?" 

Lieutenant Tomas raised her hand. "I suppose coaxial warp won't work?" 

"Coaxial warp?" Harry looked confused. "Marissa, the idea is to get the Flyer out a *few* light years, not 20,000. Besides, if that won't disrupt this area of space, I don't know what will." 

"Mari's on the right track. About the disruption thing, that is." Jomez Cruz breathed heavily. "I have an idea ... actually, it was Sharon's idea, but she asked me to figure out how to work it --" 

B'Elanna interrupted him with a wave of her hand. "Wait a second." She looked at the composition of her two tables. Table 1: two. Table 2: six. "Okay everybody, we need to be able to pay attention. Spread out." 

Tom grinned. "Sure." He lay down, spread eagle. "I'm ready for you, baby." 

Everybody laughed. B'Elanna had a feeling he was waiting for that all along. She gave him a patented Klingon death glare. 

Tom smirked. "Dudeyo," he said, "it was funny! Sheesh." "Dude Yo?" she repeated, pronouncing the unfamiliar words. 

"Never mind. 90s slang. The *19*90s to be accurate." 

B'Elanna shook her head in wonderment. *I hate this.* 

________________________________________________________________ GFFA -- 20 years ago -- Coruscant North Pole 

"I now am reminded," she said, "why I hate teenagers." 

"I thought you had welcomed them into the adult club," Luke pointed out. 

"Consider them officially impeached." Mara closed her eyes. "So what do we do now? We said we were going to call Tionne. Exactly what are we supposed to do in the next fifteen minutes in this stupid Holonet center to waste time?" 

Luke opened his mouth to say something, then thought better of it. *Let's elevate the maturity of our everyday lives a bit, shall we?* Instead, he opted for seriousness. 

"Mar, let's go ahead and call Tionne. Think about it. Not only would it make us feel less guilty about bailing ourselves out of that room, but maybe we finally can allay your fears." 

"Fears?" 

"About Ahna. I can tell. They still haunt you despite the gaiety of our vacation." 

"In other words, joining the peanut gallery really hasn't fixed any of my more adult problems. Okay, let's do it." 

"Tionne!" Kyp called to her impatiently. "Master Skywalker wants to talk to you. Please hurry, sweetheart. I'm busy." 

"Coming!" she called back, packing up her newest instrument. It was called a zeigler, and its main attribute was that it sounded like a whiny bag of hot air. At least it was better than her previous medium, the ubiquitous stuttering carville. 

Tionne sighed. It wasn't as if *she* wasn't busy. *I'm a musician. Can't Kyp see that music is an integral part of the Force?* But no matter. She loved her Kyp, slight flaws and all. 

But even her angel-like patience was tested next by what she was called away from her duties for. "You want me to *what*?" she asked into the holophone. 

Luke repeated, "I want you to please, pretty please, look up anything to do with possessed, Force-sensitive children. Please. You're our resident historian; besides, only you have that much time." 

"Um . . .may I ask why?" 

Luke raised his eyebrows. "Mara's imagination is acting up again," he said by way of explanation. 

To herself: *You have got to be kidding . . . * Aloud: "Oh. Of course. We can't let her poor imagination act up, now can we?" 

_____________________________________________________________________ DQ -- 7 months ago -- Main Engineering 

Joe peeked into the meeting, and groaned. *He's acting up again. I hope Torres can handle it.* 

"Keep going Jomez," she was saying. "No that's okay," said Cruz. "I'll let Sharon do the honors." 

"Okay," Sharon jumped up. "This is my idea, a bit unorthodox, I'm not technically an engineer, blah blah blah.. enough disclaimers." She grinned exuberantly. "Never thought your meeting would be dominated by junior officers, huh?" she winked. 

Joe smiled to himself as he watched her. Crazy Kays was finally coming into her own. He'd like to think that he had tamed her. *Uh-huh. Sure. Who are you kidding, Carey? This is the same girl who stole Jenny Delaney's crown as 'Most Likely to Give Janeway a Heart Attack'* 

"Okay. I guess I'd better give you the idea, huh? Well, it all came to me while I was watching Naomi Wildman on the Holodeck. Remember Trevis and Flotter? Yeah, sure you do. In one episode, Trevis wanted to get into a narrow little cave that happened to contain precious gems. He tried and tried with all his might, but he couldn't do it without . . . you guessed it. Flotter. And Naomi's genius, of course." 

Tom, looking intrigued, nonthenless scooted farther from Sharon and closer to Cruz. Joe didn't want to know what he was up to. 

Seven interrupted. "Your point, Ensign?" 

"Bear with me. Now, Naomi explained to me that only Flotter could make it into the cave, because he was water-based. Trevis, although he meant well, was trying brute force to get into the cave, just as we're trying crude methods to get the Delta Flyer *out* of our own personal little cave, and even further using similar methods to force Voyager out with it. We don't need a stronger and faster propulsion system; we need one that would make us more *fluidic*." 

Harry gaped. "You're saying that we need -- 

B'Elanna finished. " -- to warp the Flyer so it can just *slide* out of the pocket?" 

Tom started to stroke Cruz's hair. 

Sharon looked proud. "Exactly. The main problem is limiting the area to mere centimeters around the Flyer so we don't disrupt the entire space we're stuck in. That's where you engineers come in." 

An engineer came in. "Kays," Joe laughed, "you're missing one thing." 

Tom whispered into Cruz's ear. "Your hair is sooo pretty." 

"What, you don't like my idea?" Sharon pouted. 

*Did I just hear Paris say ... nevermind.* "Huh? Oh, no, I think it's great. That's the whole point. It's so good that we don't need to apply it to the Flyer to fish Voyager out...we can just apply it to Voyager itself and eliminate the Delta Flyer from the equation." 

Everyone nodded. Except for Cruz, Joe noted cynically. Poor Jomez knew he was being made fun of and was trying to play it cool. *I wonder how long it'll take until the others notice?* 

"That'll take a long time to apply to Voyager," pointed out Crewman Ridot. 

"Yeah, but it's for the best," replied Torres. "We just need to be extra --" 

"What's your problem?" hissed Cruz. 

"--careful," Torres finished. "Gentlemen, is there a problem?" 

"No, none at all," Paris swallowed. 

*I'll bet, Tom* thought Joe. *What the hell is wrong with you?* 

Tom moved on to Cruz's thigh. "I have a thing for cellulite," he whispered. 

"Okay, so do we have any conceptual problems with Ensign Kays' proposal? No, okay, I'll write it up, and the senior engineering crew will nitpick the details. If everything checks out there, we'll move on to the Cap --" she stopped, and Joe saw her noticing for the first time half of her crew -- even those not participating in the meeting -- trying to hold back laughter. She turned towards Paris, saw him with an arm around Jomez Cruz and a goofy grin on his face. 

Joe stepped in. "Okay, back to work, you guys. You're reflecting poorly on my management skills. Do I need to give you cubicles?" The occasional chuckle. He was losing his touch. *I need to get them to stop encouraging Tom!* 

But Torres had a more direct method. "Okay, that's it," she growled at the ex-lieutenant. "You're on report, Mister." 

"Oh, come on 'Lann --" 

"That's enough, Ensign. Report to the Captain." 

*Ouch. And HE used to outrank HER. Technically, at least.* Joe shook his head. 

Tom huffed out of the room. Torres glanced around. "Back to work." 

This time, people listened. 

___________________________________________________________________ GFFA -- 20 years ago --Coruscant North Pole. 

Luke and Mara listened to her intently. 

"Believe it or not," Tionne was saying, "I *did* find a prophecy about possessed Force-sensitive children. Or something to that effect." She looked chastened. "Don't look so excited. I'm just kidding. I had only one hit --to tell the truth, it's a lot of mumbo-jumbo, but from what I can tell, it refers to a blonde ingenue who falls for a Force-sensitive outsider. Who knows. It could be Ahna. But honestly, that's all I can find. The passage implies that the young girl is Force-sensitive, but doesn't say it outright, and it doesn't say that it's a child." 

"So this could be a no-go." Mara put her head down on the table. "At least you were kind enough to call back the next day." 

"I'm very certain this is a no-go. I knew the passage sounded ridiculous as soon as I found it. Basically, if it does refer to Ahna, it's saying that she's meant for our galaxy, and our galaxy only, and if she ventures out of our galaxy, she'll wreck havoc on all sentient beings in the universe." 

Mara looked up. "Aren't you the one who always says to never discount the workings of the Force?" Luke, still silent, put an arm on her shoulder. 'Give it up,' his gesture seemed to say. 

"Mara, our supposed 'prophet' was only *posing* as a Force-sensitive. She was proved centuries later as a hack." 

Luke laughed. 

"Oy," replied Mara. "I guess that settles it." "Mara --" 

"Finally! The Skywalker speaks. Yes, I know honey: 'Don't worry Jade you're mind is playing tricks on you we have a normal girl.' Okay. I get it. I really get it." 

"I'm not so sure. Do you really really get it? Or do you just really get it? Hey, Mara, do you get it?" 

"Farmboy," she said through clenched teeth, "Shut up. Just shut up." 

"My goodness. You haven't given up, have you." 

"Well . . . I don't know. Mother's instincts . . great. The infallible Emperor's Hand is ruled by maternal urges. What in the world has happened to me?" 

"Don't ... don't rule out those instincts." Mara looked at him askance. He added quickly, "I'm not saying that you should believe this hack prophecy or that it applies to our daughter, but it's all right to keep an eye out for anything harmful. Just promise me that you'll calm down." "I promise," she said, mock-sullenly. 

Han Solo leaned back around the doorway before his friends realized he was there. "Some Jedi -- they didn't even sense me." He whistled to himself. "Mara Jade, superstitious. Who woulda thought? I've gotta tell Jacen." 

_____________________________________________________ DQ -- 7 months ago --Captain's Ready Room 

"I've gotta tell you, Paris, I'm beginning to lose patience with you." 

"Join the club. I'm surprised it took you so long." 

"Lieu--Ensign. Why are you selling yourself short?" 

"My, my, aren't we being formal today." 

"Don't you take advantage of our relationship, Paris. Don't you *dare*." Kathryn Janeway spat out the words. "I may be your friend, but I am the Captain of this ship, and when I get reports of a member of my crew -- my *senior* crew -- being destructive . . . Paris, you're role model. But right now, even Naomi Wildman can't look up to you." She sighed. "This is so absurdly ridiculous that I can't believe I'm having this conversation with you! I feel like I'm dealing with a twelve-year-old boy!" She switched tracks again. "Tom . . . what's going on?" 

"Not sure how to deal with me, huh? Maybe you can get some pointers from my father. Or B'Elanna." 

*I think he just hit the problem dead on. Now how do I deal with this? Be honest, Kathryn. Give up the tough-guy act. Maybe he'll follow.* 

"*Mister* Paris, you're lucky. *Damn* lucky, that I'm not merely yelling at you and moving on. I'm *worried* about you, Tom Paris. Worried that a rising star so quickly is falling. Talk to me, Paris. What's going on?" 

"I'd rather you'd have stuck with the lecture. I'm sorry that your personal reclamation project has gone bad, *sir*, but there's nothing new in my life to report. Hey, I've been demoted to Ensign. I might as well act like one." 

"Torres told me that she thinks you act up more around her." 

"Torres is an idiot. Permission to speak freely?" 

"Paris, you've been speaking freely since the moment you stepped in here." 

"I like being funny, *Captain*. I bring laughter on this boring damn ship. Is that so wrong?" He opened his hands with a patented Paris puppy-dog look. 

"Do you realize how idiotic you sound? Tom, you're a grown man. Enough with the clowing around. Have you ever noticed how Joe and Sharon light up the room? They're crazy, but they don't act like hormonal teenagers." 

"I make 'em laugh, don't I?" 

Kathryn sighed maternally. "Tom, they're laughing at YOU." 

"AT ... At me. At ME. You know what? I don't really seem to care." He let out an anguished breath. "I feel -- I -- this is really stupid. But --" "Tom --" *He IS like a little boy ...* 

"She said I was *sinking*. Kathryn, do you know how horrible that is? B'Elanna left because she was scared of me...do you think I'm about to fall -- self-destruct? 'Cause if you do, I might as well excrabate the process." 

*Horrible? Sinking? Falling? Only when you're a captain falling for an Ensign...* 

"Tom," she whispered softly, "I-I'm speaking to you as a friend now. You are an extremely gifted, charming, *brilliant* young man with a bright future ...God, you're enthusiasm for old merchant ships, and the twentieth century, and flying -- it's infectious. You have an amazing abilitly to start shipwide crazes and fads ...do you realize how much you mean to us? You are NOT going to self-destruct. We won't let you." 

"Aw shucks. I'm about to cry." 

*You are an ass* "You don't deserve my praise, but what the hell." She took a deep breath. "Tom, there's more to you than any of us really know. There's something ...something different, something that may explain why you get in this deep *funk* at times. I wish I could figure out that something. God knows it would save us a lot of trouble. But I can't . .. not unless you talk to me." 

Tom snorted. "We're *really* feeling the lack of a counselor aboard here. That's the teariest speech I've ever heard out of you. Arene't you supposed to be a Captain here? You know ....tough love?" 

Kathryn clenched her teeth. "Talk, Paris. Or I'll grant your wish . . .how does permanent reassignment to sickbay suit you?" 

"And be talked to death by the Doc? Hmm, we may be able to cut some kind of deal here . . ." 

____________________________________________________________________ GFFA -- 20 years ago -- Coruscant North Pole 

"C'mon Jaina, talk." 

"Um, I don't understand the question?" 

Jacen grinned. "Nice try, sis. C'mon. What's up with you and Corran?" 

"Excuse me?!?" 

Mara piped in. "Oh come on, Zekk went home. You can tell us." "You guys are horrible. Mom ..." Seeing that she would get no help from her parents, Jaina groaned in frustration. "He's my boss. He's over twenty years older than me. I have a boyfriend. He's married." 

"And he's cute." 

Jaina glared at Tenel Ka. "I liked it better when you never talked." Tenel Ka shrugged in reponse. "Ooh, okay. So, we flirt. Okay? Harmless flirting. That's it, all, the whole kitandkaboodle-- we face death all the time, and that's the way to deal with it. Is that enough for you?" 

"See, that wasn't so hard, sis. Now it's your turn." 

"Hmm." Jaina looked around for her victim. "Silent girl, truth or dare?" 

Tenel Ka thought for moment. "Dare." 

"Of course. You're Dathomiran. Okay, hotshot. Do a handstand." 

Luke choked. "Jaina ..." 

"She deserves it." "Ah! Ah-hah! Take that." 

Han raised an eyebrow. "One-armed handstand? Mission accomplished. Your pick, Princess." 

"I believe that I shall bring the adults into our little parlor game. Master Skywalker, what is your pleasure?" 

"I think I'll be dangerous and go for a dare." 

"Kiss your sister." 

"What?!" 

Han snorted. "That's not exactly uncharted territory." 

"Is nothing sacred in this family?" 

"C'mon Uncle Luke," grinned Jacen. 

Leia rolled her eyes. "Get it over with." 

Luke leaned over and pecked her on the cheek. 

"Cheater," Tenel Ka groaned. 

Han snorted again. "Maybe he hasn't recovered from the one on Hoth." 

Leia waggled her eyebrows. "Wait 'till I get to you. You'll get your due. Luke, pick me so I can get him." 

"Truth or Bare?" A groan. "Truth seems safe." 

"So, Leia, do those crazy hairstyles make you feel like you're still a princess?" 

She muttered. "That's rude. That's just plain rude." 

"C'mon,be a trouper." 

"All I know is that I have a past to hold on to. You have to dream about the days when you were a moisture farmer." 

"Snappish, aren't we?" 

Leia stuck her tongue out at her brother. "My turn. Okay, nerfherder. I want the truth, for once and for all. Did you or did you not once bathe with a Hutt?" 

A chorus of "Eews" erupted from the assemblage. Han look incensed. "Hey! You didn't even give me a choice! And how did *you* know?" 

"So it's true." 

"I did it to save a girl and get off Ylesia." 

Mara furrowed her brow. "Don't Hutts bathe in mud?" 

"Yup. They sure do. The things I do for womankind." 

"Huh? The best thing you can do for womankind is to die." 

Jaina laughed. "Aunt Mara, you sure have a big mouth for someone who hasn't even had her turn." 

"I'm all for it. Hit me with your best shot." 

"Okay, Jade, truth or dare?" asked Han impishly. 

"Hmm. Truth." 

"Is Ahna possessed?" 

The rest of the room cracked up. Mara blinked twice, and walked out of the room. 

"Whoops," said Jacen. "Maybe we shouldn't have let on that we knew." 

Luke followed her out. "Sweethear --" 

She spun around. "Did you tell him?" she demanded angrily. 

"N-no! Mara, he probably just overheard one of our conversations! And you have to admit that it's funny." 

"Not to me. Not- To- ME! Okay? Can you get that through your thick skull? Something's wrong, and it will haunt me forever." 

There was a pause. "Well, I guess we'll have to leave it at that," he finally said softly. "I'm not going to let *your* yearning for some turbelence in your life ruin my vacation. That's enough, Mara. I'm out." 

"Can't you see?" she pleaded. "We're sinking." 

"I want you to get some help." 

"We're *sinking*, Luke." She hugged herself and whispered. "Sinking." 

_____________________________________________________ DQ -- 6 months ago -- Ensign Paris' quarters 

Sinking. That's how she had described it, almost two months before. He *had* been sinking. He realized this now. *Had* been, but no longer. 

It had been time to stop his whining. That was a month ago. He had more important things to worry about now. Like his friendship with Kathryn. He credited Kathryn with helping him grow up again. Oh, and the ship. The ship was still stuck. They had tried, so hard, but their plans had backfired. The ten-centimeter margin around Voyager had blown to twenty feet in three minutes. Voyager had rocked, the drive had failed and the crew had been plunged deeper into the abyss. It had taken another month to effect repairs. But Tom thought they'd be ready soon. . .at least, he hoped so. The ship needed to be in optimal condition for another attempt. Listen to him. He was beginning to return to that old Starfleet mentality: Love the ship, Live the Ship, Breath the ship. And it wasn't such a bad place to be after all. 

But then there were the dreams. She came to him -- It started out as once a week, and now it was every night. She- she was enough for him to want to abandon ship once and for all and to find that woman. 

But those dreams ... well, last night it was different. He saw hurricane, and terror, and screaming -- and through it all, she was there. In the middle of it all... 

For some reason, the soundtrack to his dream was his words... at least, it was his voice. But he didn't know who he was talking about, and he never remembered uttering them. All he knew was that he was trying to prevent some sort of destruction, and failing miserably. 

*She could have, *would* have, killed, reveled in brutal destruction without me. For love? Nay, for life. She needed brutality to live. She didn't do her wickedness out of love for me.* 

More voices had intruded, all calling out at once. *In her eyes were the lights of love that shone whenever she looked at me, and for me, for me only, she smiled. While she skewered other with her hateful fire she looked upon me with the face of a thousand benevolent spirits all singing out at once. But without warning the spirits would turn black and corroded and awful and she would shower me with her anger.* 

Whose words were those? Why were they resonating in his head? Were they a warning of things to come? 

*She felt . . . she *felt* too much. Even when the sun shone down on her and happiness made her step at once light and powerful she felt it too much. Her spirit sucked in all the life around her and she was charged and those close to her were drained. The blackness would have claimed me long before she would have succumbed to it.* 

Through it all, she was there. In the middle of it *all* . . . 

CHAPTER III 

DQ -- 6 months ago -- Captain's Ready Room 

How did she get in the middle of these things? She prided herself on never playing favorites. Yes, her ship may have run on a merit-based system, but that was the key. One had to be an established officer, and a good one at that, to gain certain priveleges from the Captain. Tom was an established officer. He was not a good one. At least not lately. 

'That's not true .. .' He was a good officer, but he had ceased to become a good leader. So why did she even dare to suggest to Chakotay that they evaluate him for re-promotion? 'I can't believe he agreed. Now what do I do?' She had thought that her being drawn to him was her captain's instinct trying to tell him something. She had gotten Tom's hopes up, but now she had to tell him that there was no way. 'It wasn't captain's instinct. It was my need to nurture someone who had reminded me of myself.' 

___________________________________________________________ GFFA -- 6 months ago -- Imperial Palace 

"Remind me," said the General, "why exactly I agreed to be promoted all those years ago?" 

The nervous aide glanced at her boss for a millisecond and quickly scuttled away, hoping that he wasn't talking to her. 

General Garik Loran sighed unhappily. It used to be that young women like his aide would scuttle away from him because his boyish looks would make them blush. Now they ran because he was one of the Important People. Space, how he hated that. He remembered his old commander (had it really been 40 years ago?) Wedge Antilles grimacing whenever he would walk into a pilot's bar, because all conversation would stop at the appearance of a senior officer. Garik learned quickly how that felt. 

Of course, that was the least of his worries right now. Right now, there was a tear in the space-traffic lanes of Coruscant that wouldn't quit. 

He thought back to his Intelligence days. Was there anything he had learned that would help him explain why there suddenly was something similar to a hyperspace conduit right outside of the orbit of the New Republic's capital world? "No, all I learned back there was how to sip caf and wear dark visors to look more 'cool.' Hmmph. Like I needed help to look cool. Oh, boy, I'm glad I can still crack myself up. Thank goodness. Now I can die saying, 'I was an ass. I was a funny ass. An ass is more fun to have than a Face.' " 

He didn't realize that he had spoken aloud until he saw the little nervous aide attempting to give him a datapad and literally shaking in her boots. "S-sir? Um, are you busy? Um, this is s-some information for you." 

He took it from her, scanning quickly. The tears were growing at a tremendous rate. "Alert the Chief of State and the Inner Council," he called out. He quickly suppressed a growing sense of panic. 'Why they put me in charge of things is beyond me ...' 

"Sithspit." 

"Very eloquent of you, Senator," he said dryly. "Now, do you have any suggestions about how to alert the general populace?" 

"Sorry, Mister Chief-of-State," apologized Senator Nilla. 

"I don't think we should," called Anakin Solo as he strode into the room. "I apologize for intruding," he said more softly to the Chief-of-State, "but the guard let me through." 

The Chief-of-State had to wonder exactly how much "persuading" the Jedi Master had done to convince that guard to let him through. 

"I'll bet," Senator Pino muttered under his breath. "Now, why exactly does your esteemed personage think that we shouldn't let our citizens know that space is being distorted right above their heads?" 

"Simple diplomacy," interrupted the first senator. "We don't want to create a panic. From what I understand from the general in charge, the situation is under perfect control and the tears should be contained within the hour." 

"Who's the general in charge?" inquired the Chief-of-State. 

There was a hesitation, and then with consternation: "General Loran." 

"Sithspit." 

'Okay, don't panic,' he again told himself. There really was no reason for him to worry because he always had performed best under pressure. That's why he had shot up the ranks in Starfighter Command in the first place. 

The words were more a silent plea to his young aides and interns working all around him. By luck of the draw, he had been chosen to act under a new program that paired decorated, experienced officers with up-and-coming cadets. By another luck of the draw he also was chosen to man Imperial Palace's military security post. It was supposed to be an easy boring post designed to ease the younguns into the real world. 

'So much for *that* idea.' 

Face -- under pressure he always reverted himself back to the less-dignified nickname of his youth -- Face glanced with growing appreciationn around the room at the young recruits. They had followed his instructions to a tee, analyzing the span of the thing, making calculations, keeping an open channel to the Fleet. A young Academy graduate -- Nerple was his name -- was doing a tremendous job redirecting space traffic without telling the snooty yacht owners exactly what was going on. 

Satisfied, Face settle back into his chair, grateful for a momentary respite while the tears cooled down a bit. 'Y'know, I could get used to this post. Rank without responsibility. Who said soldiers and politicians had nothing in co--' 

His reverie was interrupted by a sharp bark from Nerple. "Sir! The tears . . .the yacht . . I think I made a mistake," he finished, his head hanging. 

Face got his Lorrd up. "Explain, *Cadet* Nerple." 

"It's my fault," the little nervous aide broke in, her stutter gone, her eyes accepting the blame without fear. "The data gave a 95.55% chance that firing a concussion missle at these coordinates --" she pointed the numbers out to the General --"would prevent the tears from, well, tearing any further. I decided that to have Nerple tell a yacht owner to fire the missile will both save us time and equipment and make the civilians feel like they had control of the situation." 

"Good work," said Face, impressed. "What happened?" 

"I relayed Nerple the wrong coordinates." 

He struggled to keep his cool. "Report!" he called out to the room. 

The reports came in. Space was tearing at an astronimical rate, and ... 

"A ship's coming through?" 

"Yes, sir," said Nerple, calm once again. "Seems non-hostile. They're attempting to hail us, but we can't pick up a signal until they're all the way through." 

Garik -- his gut was telling him that everything was going to be all right -- Garik watched as a large vessel extracted itself from the now comparatively small tear. It certainly was gleaming. He couldn't understand how the ship could look as if it never made a space flight. 

Hmm. If his sixth sense was telling him that all would turn out well, he might as well work on his repertoire while he waited. "And no streak marks!" he whispered. "They're going to be shocked when they see *our* prides and joys." He smiled to himself, lowered his voice. "Why, G'tallina Graoijflt, what a wretched hive of scum and residue we've come across!" Okay, that was fun. Garik looked around to make sure none of his trainees were watching their General make a fool of himself. All clear. Too bad his jokes had wilted so badly over the years. He missed his humor. It had been his constant comp -- 

"Sir!" a young trainee called, "The unknown ship's within communications range."  Back to business. 

He waited as the figure formed on the screen. The figure . . . He felt himself transforming into Face once more. 

Oh great. Like his galaxy needed any more redheads. 

___________________________________________ GFFA -- 6 months ago -- Bridge of Voyager/ Imperial Palace 

The petite redhead spread her hands in a non-threatening gesture. "I'm Captain Kathryn Janeway of the USS Voyager." The older man smiled in the viewscreen. For some reason, the smile looked forced. "And I'm General Garik Loran of the New Republic Starfighter Command and Intelligence Combined Forces. We're glad you finally made it. We were afraid you'd get stuck in that tear." 

"Tear? Oh, yes, the resistance pocket. Which leads me to our dilemma. What in the universe *was* that anamoly my ship just experienced?" 

The man -- General Loran -- frowned. "We were hoping you could tell *us*. We've been watching this . . .*anamoly* as you call it ...form for the past few hours. We thought you'd be explorers from another galaxy." 

Kathryn Janeway grimaced. "We're from another galaxy all right. So my operations officer tells me. But we're not here by choice. We've been drawn into the resistance pocket ... or 'tear' as you call it." 

"Our analysts have determined that you are non-hostiles. We invite you down to the surface to discuss matters and figure out what has happened." 

Janeway turned to Tuvok, who raised an eyebrow, indicating that he'd rather play it safe. Chakotay pursed his lips, indicating the same. 

Janeway fiddled with her commbadge. "If you don't mind, we'd rather welcome a party to *our* ship. We'll give you as much time as you need. Just contact us and we'll beam your representatives to our ship." 

"Beam?" 

Janeway sighed. *Never fails . . .* "We'll explain then. Voyager out." 

The general turned to his little nervous aide. "That was a good idea, suggesting we test out that new program that converts unfamiliar languages into Basic. We might make something out of you yet." Now all he had to do was outfit every protocol droid in contact with the new ship with the language analysis so they could translate. 'A general's work is never done . . .' He consulted his datapad. 

Janeway took notes on her PADD. "Impressions," she called. 

Lieutenant Tom Paris (thankfully he had made her decision easier with his newfound devotion to duty) turned from his post at Conn. "I really don't think there's any need for caution. I think we're safe with these people." 

"Your basis for that, Paris?" Tuvok still refused to refer to him by rank, Janeway noticed with amusement. 

"I . . .never mind. Gut instinct. I guess that's not logical enough, is it." 

Chakotay grinned. "You're learning, Tom." 

Ahna was ready a half-hour later. 

"That was quick," said her elder cousin, impressed. 

"Hey, you don't have to be Chief-of- State to be able to speed-brief yourself, Jacen." She waved to him and walked to the designated area for Voyager to ...*beam* herself up. *I wonder if Anakin could do this matter-transfer thing with the Force*, she sent to Jacen. She knew, of course, that the Republic had had technology similar to the Federation's transporters long ago. However, after a particularly gruesome incident involving a grukar, a Madrinian ambassador, and an unusually springy bowl of pasta, the Senate had finally decided to deem such technology unsafe and unreliable. 

Jacen snorted, but didn't reply. "You have your minature protocol droid?" He was being a bit coddling, thought Ahna, but that was understandable, considering her age. She was really too young to be on such a mission by herself, but she had proven herself time and again in first contact situations...too many times to be then regulated to the rank of merely "ambassador's assistant." She was on her own, the way she wanted it, the way she had always insisted it be. "The damn Jade *and* Skywalker stubborness," her Aunt Leia would lament. 

"ElAr is ready for action. Aren't you, my little language relay?" ElAr didn't answer. He was annoyed at her. Come to think of it, he always was annoyed at her. It was his nature. She nodded for the young Lieutenant at the comm station to contact the alien ship. *They may have *beams*, but at least *we* have holophones. What fun is talking with a two-dimensional screen?" 

"We're beaming the alien representative up," called Harry. Chakotay turned. "Just one representative?" 

"Yes, sir," he replied. 

Chakotay looked at his captain and shook his head. Obviously they had more confidence in Voyager than Voyager had in them. 

A few minutes later, the turbolift doors opened an in ... walked ... the rep. *Wow,* he thought to himself. The representative...the young woman... smiled at him as if she knew exactly what he was thinking. Chakotay noticed with satisfaction that Tom was gaping even more obviously than he was. 

She had long blonde hair, and wore a utilitarian jumpsuit. *She doesn't look like someone you'd want to mess with.* What got Chakotay's attention even more than her looks were her ...looks. She was human. Unless there was something under her clothes that he couldn't see ... Chakotay blushed. Enough of *that* line of thinking. 

"Captain Janeway?" She shook her hands with Voyager's leader. "I'm Ahna Jade Skywalker, an ambassador of the New Republic. I deal with all first contacts, and I'm very pleased to meet you." Hmm, a diplomat. For some reason her cool-headedness surprised him. 

*Of course they'd send a diplomat, you dolt. What'd you expect, a warrior?* Beautiful women always turned his brains to mush. It was amazing he ever was able to function around Kathryn. 

In her 23 years of experience, there were three things she could count on: her parents, Mother's little holdout blaster, and fate. The third was that little unknown quantity that intellectually she never would rely on. But Ahna was unusual in that she was strong in emotion and spirit, affectionate, yet stoic. She was a being of paradoxes -- one who was liberal in view but conservative in action, down to earth yet awash in fantasy, coolly logical but given to fits of emotion. She was of two minds -- her father and mother existing as one, and, at times, battling. She never could figure out to which parent she owed which side of her. She did know, however, that such a disposition without fail made one yearn for something, and discard it in disgust once attained. She was ambitious to a fault, always searching, never realizing when she was happy, never content. 

Meanderings of the mind too were common to her, and such an effect was common whenever she thought of fate. Her faith in all things of the Force was rivaled only by her deep belief in controlling one's own destiny. She sighed. *Just have to accept that I don't make sense. Why don't we just concentrate on the task on hand, Ahna?* That, however, was hard to do in the presence of fate's validation. *If I didn't believe it then, I sure believe it now: Force dreams are no myth.* If no other good came out of this, at least Father would rest easy knowing he had a total convert on his hands. 

The thoughts of the young mind had no effect on her outward appearance. Her Jedi training and her natural inclination toward the difficult acting job known as diplomacy had kept her looking cool, calm, and professional. A split second after her contemplations had begun, they were over, and the deeper unsolved questions were stored for later reflection. To her greeters, she had introduced herself, blinked her eyes, and moved into the little briefing room to which they pointed. 

Harry nudged him again. "Ow," he grumbled. "Don't worry! I'm paying attention." 

Not only was he paying attention, but he had participated throughout the meeting as well. "1 month ago," he had begun, "Voyager formulated a plan to escape the resistance pockets in which we had fallen." Tom had continued by explaining how the plan had failed the first time, how it had taken a month to repair to ship to be sufficiently sure of success the second time, and how the next and final try was met with total disaster. "We don't know what happened," he had said. "We already had figured out the the pockets were collapsing in the first place, and that if we didn't do anything we would be transported far away. Far away was good, but the problem was that it was in the *opposite* direction from home. Not good. But we honestly thought that our plan was working our second try. Then, BAM!" 

The beautiful woman had interjected. "We have reason to believe that that ... BAM --" she had smiled merrily as she imitated Tom, " --was our fault." She explained. 

"So," she continued, "the New Republic is willing to do whatever neccessary to get your crew home. Or, at least back to the site of the tears' originations. I realize you already were far away from your home planet." 

Chakotay then had asked, "One question. You said the anamoly...the tears ... formed over many hours. To us, it was just as Ens--Lieutenant Paris described. BAM! In seconds, not hours." 

"We'll work on an explanation for that," the ambassador ...Sky Glider? No, Sky*walker* ... had assured. 

If he could remember all that, it was obvious that he had been paying attention. *Take that, Harry*, he thought, knowing full well that neither he nor Harry was telepathic. *Oh, well.* 

But honestly, he was proud of himself. That woman ... he didn't even want to think about it, but ... she was the ... was he crazy? *I must be crazy*. But still, it took a lot of effort for him to be able to concentrate on the meeting, much less participate. *Damn straight I'm proud of myself.* 

He focused his attention back on the meeting. Whoops. In congratulating himself, he had missed the whole last half of the briefing. Harry pinched him again. *Too late, buddy.* 

Janeway was thanking their guest for being so cooperative and thankful. "We hope to continue relations with your people," she finished. "Mr. Paris --" Tom jumped -- "As Ambassador Skywalker *already* has stated --" whoops. She knew -- "She and her aides will be contacting you to work out navigational strategies to getting us back." 

Tom nodded guiltily as Janeway dismissed the group and everyone started to walk out. He had survived the first full week after being re-promoted. He even had survived the briefing while being only half there. Wow. 

He was again in the midst of self-congratulation when Skywalker walked up behind him. "I'm glad I finally found you, Tom Paris," she whispered. As he jumped and turned in astonishment, she seemed to glide out the door. 

___________________________________________________ GFFA -- 6 months ago -- Captain's quarters 

The door chimed. 

She had been sitting in the dark, alone, coffee in one hand and PADD in the other. The PADD was more for show; to her it always felt like someone was watching her, evaluating her, and she wanted to make sure they thought that she never had an idle moment. 

If one looked closely, though, one could see that the PADD was empty, save for a few scribbles here and there signifying a brainstorming process. Hardly ship's business. Instead of keeping Voyager in order she was trying to keep her self in order, labeling little organizers in her mind and attempting, futily, to force bits of her psyche into the tiny boxes. 

Why it was so much easier in her youth to compartmentalize was beyond her. Now, *now*, when she needed to disconnect her unruly bits of self the most, *now* her vunerable, *human* side was coming out of her. For although without doubt Captain Kathryn Janeway was human, only the "Kathryn" side of her could allow herself to be ruled by emotion. Not the Captain. Normally that wouldn't pose a problem, but on Voyager, light years from her home (and now even farther away), she could not allow herself the luxury of even *being* herself -- Kathryn. She was the Captain, and that was all. 

The door chimed again. Kathryn sighed and indicating that the caller should enter. In walked the source of her troubles. 

He was grinning from ear to ear, Tom Paris. Involuntarily she felt herself smile back at him. He was her best friend. They were best friends. Her best friend made her smile. 

Her best friend also made her want to be *more* than best friends, despite the short amount of time that they had become close. Therein lay the problem. She . . . 

She grimaced. Like a child, she had a crush on him. 

*Dear God* It made her sick to even admit to herself that she could be so utterly irrational. Weak, that's what feeling like that made her look in her eyes. Had she come so far in her life, only to still be ruled by a childish crush? 

But that's why she had invited him, Tom. She had decided that if she told him, made a joke out of it, then they could acknowledge the tension that both knew was there and move on. Like adults. Like senior officers who had much more important and germane things on their minds. 

Someone cleared his throat. She looked up. She blushed. "Have I been on another planet?" 

"More like in another galaxy, Kathryn," he joked. "Or is this ship's business, *Captain*?" 

She chuckled. "Only you realize how schizophrenic I am, hmm. No, this isn't ship stuff. I just...well, how are you, Tom? We haven't had a chance to talk in a long time." 

"YES!" 

Kathryn raised an eyebrow. 

Tom smiled sheepishly. "You have *no* idea how long I've waited for you to ask me that." He continued enthusiastically. "Wait 'till you here this. You're not gonna believe it. Well, actually, you probably *won't*. It's kinda weird, well , I've met the woman of my dreams." 

Kathryn rolled her eyes. *Scratch Plan A. I guess I'll have to deal with my problems by myself.* "You *always* meet the woman of your dreams, Tom. And it's *always* a disaster." 

"Hey! You confuse me with Harry! *I* don't have a habit of picking the wrong twin. Well, then again, I usually don't bother to tell the Delaneys apart. No, this is real. I've *literally* met the woman of my dreams. I've dreamt about her, I swear! And now I've met her." 

"How many people can you 'just meet' on Voyager after five years?" 

"She's not from Voyager." 

"But then ... oh no." 

Tom nodded his head 'yes'. 

"Oh no, no,no Paris she's way out of your league. She looks like she could smoke you without a thought." 

"Oh yes yes yes I like dangerous women. C'mon, she's cute! And stop always agreeing with Harry." 

"Harry had the same reaction? Tom, doesn't that tell you something? No, no, no. And what's this about dreaming about her?" 

He grew serious. "I'm telling you, I've been dreaming about her. And she acknowledged me after the meeting. She said that she'd been waiting for me!or something like that," he amended. "I'm telling you, it's fate ...or maybe she could just tell that I was interested in her." He hung his head. "I guess I'm being stupid, huh." 

"Tom, it's a stupid crush. You don't have a chan --" she stopped. She grew quieter. "Go for it." 

"Huh?" 

"I changed my mind. Go for it. With all you've got." 

Now, *that* would solve her little problem. An attached Tom was an unattractive Tom. 

Besides, who was she to spit in the face of true love? 

_________________________________________ GFFA-- 6 months ago -- Rock Leader X-wing Commander Solo first knew love when she learned to fly. She first knew passion when she had her first command. 

Her first command wasn't a squadron; it even wasn't for Starfighter Command. Her best friend Tenel Ka had "hired" her as pilot for her personal ship "Rock Dragon," remembered Jaina with amusement. 

Why was she thinking back to events more than twenty-four years ago? Things were different. Tenel Ka was the Hapan Queen. She and Jacen had gone their separate ways. They had all grown up. 

She sighed. *Because everytime I go through squadron check I rue the day I decided to name my newest squadron after my first command.* 

The check-offs were winding down. "Rock Eight, green and ready." "Rock Nine, all clear" "Rock Ten, four lit and aching, squealing, wanting oh wanting to rumble." Rock Ten aside, the checkoffs wouldn't have made her wince if her squadron had a better name. She had wanted to name it Dragon Squadron, but that was already taken, and stubborn Jaina had refused to give up her idea. So she decided to name it *Rock* Squadron. What was she thinking? 

No matter. Rock Twelve had just burst in the comm with his typical, "Optimal. Commence," so it was time to see that her fighters regrouped and were ready for their newest mission. 

Newest mission. *Escort duty. And to the Coruscant moon, no less. A two minute expenditure.* 

It was, of course, a mere diversion for her squadron to partake in while on vacation, nothing more. But Ahna had told her that the Voyager crew intrigued her, Jaina had been assaulted with paperwork, her squadron certainly most definitely without a doubt was bored, so she decided to give them all, including herself, some mindless tasks so she could appreciate what she had. After five days of escorting random ships in the space lanes of Coruscant, Jaina was sure that they all would never complain about vacation again. 

She gave orders to surround the new, gleaming extragalactic ship and began her flight. 

The ship was beautiful. Jaina couldn't understand how a ship that had a look befitting more a spaceyacht than a military cruiser could travel such a long way. 

The flying wasn't so bad, either. Their pilot sure knew how to handle a ship. *I wonder how much it would take to hire him or her away?* 

*There you go again, Jaina. Always thinking about the squadron.* She was nearing forty, and she was still only a squadron commander. *Only?!? It's all I ever wanted.* Jacen, her overachieving-yet-drifting brother, had always joked that she was following in Wedge Antilles' footsteps by refusing promotions. *A comparison I'd be honored for people to make.* 

They reached the moon. Jaina had thought that her orders were mixed up, and that Voyager was supposed to *orbit* the moon. But no, no mistake. The ship began to descend to the surface. *Without any repulsorlifts?* 

She understood when they extended landing clamps that looked like little feet. *Oh, how cute* she deadpanned. Then again, any pilot that would be caught dead landing something that resembled a flying amphimbian didn't deserve to be in her squadron, stupidly-named or not. 

_____________________________________________ GFFA -- 6 months ago -- Imperial Palace 

"What a stupid name," Tom whispered to Harry as they walked past the busts of the famous dead people of Coruscant. Harry stopped and peeked at the nameplate. "Mon Mothma? Sounds like Big Momma or something." 

"A big hairy woolly mammoth comes to *my* mind, gentlemen," confided Captain Janeway. "Now if you don't mind, I think we'd better stick with the group." She gave them one of her jaunty half-smiles and went on her way. 

Tom followed, whistling. It was thanks to him that the meeting with the New Republic heads of state had been set up in the first place. He was surprised that the New Republic had on insisted on dealing, however, with one of those unusual Jedi people that they seemed to revere as gods. The mystery of the "Force" wielding Jedi was an endless source of speculation at Voyager briefings, but the captain had insisted that all probably would be made clear in time. Anyway, Jedi or not, Tom had pulled off his latest trick. 

*Diplomacy's not all that bad,* he thought to himself. Especially when First Contact was with a beautiful blonde ambassador. He and Ahna had hit it off while going over navigational relays. Well, actually, it was more like he spent the hour staring at her profile while she ran calculations through her head. If only he could break her of that work ethic .... 

Harry glanced over at him. "Paris, get over it. She doesn't like you. She didn't even broach the idea of getting to know you better. Give it up." 

"Hey! How'd you know what I was thinking?" 

"I'm your best friend. I know when you're contemplating your chances with the Alien of the Week. But Ahna Skywalker ... I don't know." 

"Ahna? No, no! I was thinking about my hot date with the woolly mammoth!" 

Harry chuckled. "I'd watch what I say about revered heroes around here. For all you know she could be Ahna's mother." 

Tom shivered. 

He never meant to follow in his mother's footsteps; in fact, he really had been against following in *anyone*'s footsteps. Jacen had been a Jedi teacher at the praxeum when he realized that. He sat all alone one day after his brother Anakin had been voted in as a new Jedi Master. Jacen was still a Knight, and he didn't mind at all. What he did mind was that he was doing the same job he had been doing since he was a teenager. 

"Truth or Dare," he had asked his brother, who had walked in to check on him. The question was their personal joke; Anakin always had complained that no one *ever* liked to involve him in the game because he was too brutally honest. 

"Truth," Anakin had answered as usual. 

"Do you think I'm cut out for this job?" 

Anakin had thought contemplatively. "You're cut out for it, but you don't like it. It's time for something new, big brother." 

So Jacen had quit his position, and tried everything, *anything*, that wouldn't immediately mark him as a Solo or as a Skywalker. He even had tried veternary school, expecting for it to come as naturally to him as his affinity for animals. Bad idea. He couldn't bring himself to perform dissections for his exams. So, he had allowed his cousin to set him up in the interplanetary diplomatic corps. Two years later, someone nominated him as Chief of State.  He never could escape family legacy. At least he was enjoying himself, finally. 

Jacen stood as the group from the USS Voyager entered his private briefing chambers. There were quite a few of them along: the Captain, with whom he had already spoken to via viewscreen; a man who she introduced as her First Officer, who had an interesting mark on his forehead -- Jacen wondered if it was related to the marking certain Bounty Hunter UnionPride members wore on their foreheads; their pilot, who looked too confident for his own good and therefore would make an excellent addition to an NR Squadron in case his ship was stranded in this galaxy; another, boyish-looking man with an easy smile. Jacen would have wondered if the ship was all human if Ahna hadn't told him that there indeed were other races on board. What confused him was that humans were the same in both galaxy, but that there were no Bothans, no Devronians, or any other races, but races that were totally unknown to his galaxy. He made a note to appoint a group to study the human role in not only intergalactic expansion. There was an interesting story in this. 

That's it. He should have been a journalist. 

Jacen began introductions on his side. "Minister Yring, Minister Vanzlla, Councilor Brittle --" they stood and nodded in turn. All members of his Inner Council were present. "Senator Pino, Senator Kpar, Senator Nilla --" those frowned a bit. Those Senators only liked Inner Council meetings if no one else was present. That way, they could feel superior to all. 

Of course, that meant that they *really* despised the presence of his two most valued advisors. But without Anakin and Mara his whole power base would crumble. 

*Actually, it wouldn't* sent his aunt with amusement. *We're your security blankets, and you're our validation for not having a real job.* 

*Get out of my head, you old bag,* he sent. He loved his Aunt Mara. 

The woman was staring at him strangely. She already had seemed like she was communicating with someone unseen and unheard, but that otherworldly quality was nothing compared to the way she was now scrunitizing him. Tom was starting to feel uncomfortable. The Chief of State broke into his thoughts. "I'd like to introduce you to Mara Jade Skywalker, Jedi,Senate advisor, and former merchant trader." She was an older woman, maybe in her sixties, but she still was strikingly beautiful. Tom could imagine her hair darker ...black, maybe? That would've been amazing with those green eyes. Where had he seen those green eyes before? 

Kathryn Janeway sighed, as usual. Everything made her sigh. Right now, she was exhausted. Four hours and hardly any progress. One of the Senators --all the names were starting to blur together for her -- stood up. His aide had just run in and handed him something. He made a sound. "Hmm. Interesting." 

Kathryn's ears perked up. Finally... 

"It seems . . .If I may, Mister Chief of State?" The president nodded his agreement. "It seems that time moves faster in our galaxy than in yours -- at a rate of .4783 standard time units." 

That didn't make any sense -- then she caught the eye of Harry, who had converted it into *their* standard time units. He sent the calculations to her. Ah. That made a *lot* of sense. 

Chakotay broke in. "That explains why it seems that your tears took forever to form from your perspective but to us happened rather suddenly. 

"Yes," replied the senator. "And the time difference grows exponentially." 

A tinny robot ... protocol droid?... moved from person to person to make sure everyone understood the analysis. 

"If I may ask, do you comprehend the minor adjustments to your scales of measurement, Captain Janeway?" She nodded to him and waved in on. Kathryn had heard that the droids had a hard time adjusting to not being translators anymore now that the New Republic had installed a program similar to the Federation's Universal Translator. Kathryn, on the other hand, had a hard time adjusting to the idea of a protocol droid in the first place. *So much of this galaxy's technology is unusual . . .* 

She shook her head out of reverie. "So, how do you think this piece of knowledge will benefit us?" 

Harry looked at her. "If I work with Seven, B'Elanna, and some of the NR engineers, I'm certain that I can determine whether it was a manipulation of the space-time continuum that brought us here." 

"But do you really think it was that?" interjected the Jedi Master. "I understand how it could have worked, but what would have brought such a manipulation about? If we think along those lines, we probably will do better than working backwards." 

"But what good would understanding the problem do?" asked a councilor. "We need to *solve* it. It was partly our fault that they ended up here in the first place. If it wasn't for our incompetent General, their efforts to extract themselves from the distortion would not have failed." 

"Okay, okay, hold it," interrupted the Jedi woman. "We can't go around blaming the military for this. Especially when it was the Senate's idea to incorporate training programs such as the one that resulted in the debacle in the first place." 

"But I don't understand how knowing that twenty years passed in our time while two months passed in theirs would help us one bit!" called out a frustrated Minister. 

Chakotay furrowed his brow. "I don't think that was the point at all, sir." Kathryn smiled to herself. He always was so unflappable. 

She, on the other hand, didn't trust herself to speak. It was too much like Voyager senior briefings. If she let it go out of hand, the morning always was a waste. Therefore, it was a reflexive action for her to tell everyone to sit down and shut up. But this time, it wasn't her problem, so she needed to make sure she shut up. 

Tom had a brainstorm. "All we have to do is create a team to study the space-time fluctuations in the very area where the tears formed. Bear with me. I know that's obvious. But after we *study* the information, can't we apply a distortion algorithm similar to our original plan back in the Delta Quadrant to study how space-time shifs with the matrix? Then all we'd need is a member of our team who'd be able to stablize those fluctuations with those powerful telepathic tendencies the ambassador was telling me about yesterday." 

The Chief of State looked around. "I think Jedi Skywalker would be an extremely qualified addition to such a team." 

"Yes, since, Mrs. *Skywalker,* you are the wife of the great founder of the New Jedi Order, you can use some of your own considerable Force talents to devine our guests a way home. We certainly shouldn't make your nephews do all the work." 

That was it. *Skywalker.* He hadn't paid attention to her name the first time. The eyes. She was related to Ahna. Aunt or Mother? Or neither? No, it had to be some sort of immediate relation . .. 

Mara Skywalker smiled teasingly. "I rue the day I let you stop calling me 'Captain Jade,' Minister K'Bort. And Jacen, by the way, I'm "Aunt Mara." Never forget that, you little brat. The young galactic leader chuckled. "Yes, Aunt Mara." Tom noticed Kathryn grinning. He knew what she was thinking: they were a lot like Voyager's senior crew. Intelligent but with a familiar sense of humor. Tom, however, would have been more impressed if they could've actually solved some of their problems at the meeting. It was obvious that they were dealing with an ingrained bureaucracy. *Stop teasing each other and consider my idea, for God's sake!* 

He also would have felt better if Mrs. Skywalker had stopped giving him the evil eye. If she *was* Ambassador Ahna Skywalker's mother, he was in trouble. 

CHAPTER IV 

GFFA -- Lieutentant Paris' quarters (Voyager) -- 1 month ago 

Trouble was a beautiful blonde in a red dress. 

She had left his quarters hours ago, when the normal chaos of the ship had descended into the hushed murmers and the whispered light that always signified the Night Shift. How the universe always seemed to know what time it was on a lone Federation vessel Tom never would know, but it was a truth that life slowed down in the period marked twenty hundred to seven. Certainly Tom's did that night; without Ahna he just sat, reflecting, feeling the echo of her touch. 

Night after night she had come to him, for weeks it was true ... yet now, in the past few months, she came not only in his dreams but in the flesh. She was real. She was *his*, thought he in wonderment. How his life managed to change every few years was another unsolvable mystery of the universe and of its workings. 

*I'm in love. Trouble is a beautiful blonde in a red dress.* 

Joe certainly would agree. He had felt the same wonder, the same feeling of knock-em-dead way-out-of-his-league euphoria with Sharon. Tom had watched his friend go out of his mind with despair after learning of the death of his wife from one of Voyager's rare Starfleet communiques. He had disappeared from ship life; he had taken obscure duty shifts; he was all but gone. Then had come Sharon and her love. A similar feeling of helplessness had engulfed Tom after losing B'Elanna, but he had struck out in a much different way. Maybe because B'Elanna's leaving him was *her* choice, not some side-effect of Fate's whims. Not until he fell in love with Ahna did Tom finally cast away his destructive impulses. 

Luke had told him that Tom had to learn control those impulses, with or without love, or he would do a great injustice to his Jedi heritage. 

Tom furrowed his brow. He had learned that he was Force-sensitive a few days after arriving in the far-off galaxy, yet months later, he still wasn't quite sure what it meant. 

"Thomas," Luke had said in the middle of a brainstorming session, intense fire in his eyes, "Can I ... well, I need to test a theory." 

Tom had just met the venerable Jedi Master; the Voyager crew previously had dealt with his nephew. But Master Skywalker had decided to take an impromptu leave of absence from his duties at Yavin Four, and had run smack dab into a pair of arguing Senators debating how much aid they should give to Voyager. He was intrigued; therefore, he had gotten involved. 

So there he was, helping Tom in Astrometrics. And Tom had gladly offered to help *him* out in turn. 

"So what do I have to do?" he had asked. 

"I just want to see if a hunch I have is correct. Just open your mind, relax, and let me probe you. Can you do that?" 

Tom had been a bit nervous. "Seems like I heard something similar in Auckland," he said. "Heh heh. It was a joke. I was in a penal colony?" 

The Master had just looked at him blankly. 

"Never mind." Tom had followed his instructions -- 

-- and had watched as Master Skywalker had been thrown into the cartography viewscreen. 

Tom smiled at the memory. It had turned out that Master Skywalker -- or Luke as he insisted he call him -- had discovered a latent Force talent in Tom. Neither one of them could figure out how that was possible. 

"In our galaxy," Tom had explained, "only certain races have the powers that you're talking about. Telepathy, for example, is the realm of Betazoids and Vulcans, among many. There's a weird race of Travelers that are most like Jedi, though. Maybe it's not a race and is more of our version of a Jedi order. Some guy I went to the Academy with joined them." 

"So do you think that you're a Traveler?" 

"I doubt it. Of course, Wes and I *do* have a lot in common. We both screwed up piloting and lied to avoid blame. Hmmph. Never thought I'd compare myself to a skinny Mama's boy like Wesley Crusher. I can feel the acne erupting on my face now." 

"You often use humor to excise your pain," Luke had observed. 

Just his luck. Tom had found someone who could read him as well as Kathryn Janeway could. He never would be able to escape. 

"But all in all, over the past few months, he has done *so much* for me," Tom said to himself in the dark. Tom talked to him about his inner demons, and how he usually struck out with humor. Luke told him about his experiences, his pain, and how he learned to control his temper. "In controlling your excesses," he had told him, "You learn to control your fate." "But I thought you said the Force makes your destiny." 

"No. The Force is the catalyst. But you have to be a proactive partner with the Force. You don't control it, but you work with it." 

And that's when Tom decided to let himself fall in love with Ahna Skywalker. No matter how much he had pretended, he really had been fighting against the emotion the entire time. It had been time to let go of the struggle and give in to her. 

________________________________________ 

GFFA -- Corusca Gem Circle (Coruscant) -- 1 month ago 

*I give up*, she sighed to herself. 

She liked sitting in the dark. It had taken years for her to get to this point; in the past, after she had married Luke and had dived in full-force into true Jedi training, Mara had concluded that sitting in the dark was tantamount to entering the Dark Side. It was silly, she knew, yet still, for years and years she would allow herself to meditate only on top of the temple, on a Coruscant roof, in a tree on Kashyyyk -- all during the day, preferably at dawn, sometimes at dusk, or noon -- all high places to signify the pinnacle and the epitomy of the Light and of true "Jediness", if that even was a word. For years. She was rather proud of herself. 

But never could Mara Jade change the fact that she liked sitting in the dark. So, finally at peace with herself, with her past, with her powers, she allowed herself to meditate in the dark once more. 

*Yet again does peace seem to elude me* 

Something just didn't seem right. It was that little feeling in the gut of her stomach, kind of like her danger sense but not as acute. If she weren't a Jedi, she still would feel it. It just wasn't *right*; time, place, action -- they all whirled in her mind. Sometimes it was faint; sometimes, like right then, it was ... more. 

Mara always thought she had a hydrobolt loose in her head. *Probably the Emperor did something to me to make me lose the ability to trust.* Yes, that was it. Luke had decided long ago that their lives were so . . .perfect, that sometimes Mara's mind made up worries to make the universe seem again in order. 

What had made him decide that was Mara's irrational worries about Ahna. 

Now those worries were back. Especially after Luke found out that guy was Force-sensitive. She didn't know how that figured into the equation, but it was integral, whatever it was. 

"Mar," Luke had consoled, "you're just not ready to let your baby go. So, she's in love! That's great. Secretly you've hoped that the parade of losers with whom she's been involved would continue. But this ... sweetheart, it looks for real." 

"He's an ex-con, Luke." 

A laugh. "Uh-huh. You're any better?" 

She had smiled ruefully. "Skywalker 1, Woman-formerly- known-as-Jade 0." Then she had frowned. "Don't you remember the prophecy? If Ahna goes to the Deltoid Quadrant or wherever these people are from, she'll turn to the dark side, or *something.*" 

Luke had reminded her that the 'prophecy' could not be true. "Look,if it makes you feel better, if Ahna decides to go with this guy, we'll talk her out of it. She wouldn't make a choice like that without talking to us. But the bottom line is, Ahna's not crazy; she's not possessed; she's not going to become a channel for some Sith Lord. Our daughter is a well-adjusted 23 year-old, and besides, it's not like she and Tom were dreaming about each other or anything. Now *that* would raise some alarms in my head." 

So, that was that. That was five months ago. That was over. 

So again, meditating Mara put her meanderings in place. *Enough of that silliness again. It's time to --* 

"My mundane martyred mind mutters mendaciously at the sight of my meditating middle-aged Mara!" 

"Oh, leave the lilting lyrics lying on the lips of the loquacious ... uh, literature-people, Luke. Your game is pathetic. Give it up. You interrupted my meditation session." 

"You weren't meditating; you were wallowing. And at least I haven't started to speak in rhyming syllables. Jacen's been doing that lately and has been driving both his aides and Tenel Ka crazy." 

"Wonderful," she muttered. "Like uncle, like nephew." 

"You know," she continued casually, "my aide mentioned the other day that her mother had appeared to her." 

Luke look surprised. "Her mother wasn't very strong in the Force." 

"I know. I thought it was interesting. But anyway, now my aide is a bit more interested in Jedi lore. It makes for good conversation." 

"Did you know," Luke started, warming up to his favorite topic, -- *Yikes, another lesson*, Mara thought, *How many years has he been annoying me with this?* -- "Did you know, that Jedi spirits previously not very strong in the Force that gain those powers as spirits historically can be rather vindictive?" 

"Really? Not this spirit. C'mon. She was a good person. Better than most. If she ever appeared, it was for a beneficial reason." 

"You never know. Even the good ones can be slightly corrupted. It's a rare experience, though -- but the people they appear to almost always believe that they are doing a good thing, following their wishes, but sometimes their bidding is directed at getting back at someone who was more blessed than they in corpearal form." 

This began to tire her. "Wow. I'm fascinated," she deadpanned. 

"Aren't you going to thank me for cheering you up? The atmosphere in here was oppressive!" He nibbled her ear. 

Mara's mood turned sour. "I would thank you to leave me alone. And stop kissing me like that. It's icky." 

Luke pointed his finger at her in triumph. "Didn't you say when you were an old, tottering 65 you'd give in to 'icky'?" 

"Not admissable. I'm not tottering. Do I look tottering to you? I could kick you clear across the galaxy. I'm not tottering. I'm Mara Jade." 

"Dear Space, what did I marry?" 

She grinned, showing her false teeth. "Your worst nightmare." 

___________________________________________ GFFA -- Otowna Beach (Chad) -- 1 month ago 

To her, never being able to escape the chaos of the Coruscant midday would have been an utter and total nightmare. Ahna had grown up on the city world, but her heart ... her heart was something else entirely, as if it only refused to believe that it was a native of Coruscant and dug in its heels deep within her soul to leave an everlasting imprint of fields and trees and sky and stream. Ahna belonged to that new generation of Middle Rimmers that rejected urban culture, rejected nine-to-five, rejected all the things that pigeonholed and delineated and set the lives of individuals that were much more that cookie-cutter versions of their parents. Yet she still carried on her legacy of Force and diplomacy in true Skywalker fashion and ignored her yearning for ... free. She wanted to do something, anything, else, exciting, dangerous... she knew that to others her life was the embodiment of such ideals. Her family history, her Force talents, her career...they were all about following one's heart and living dangerously. 

But it was an inevitable truth that that which came naturally to one was that which confined one, constricted one ... to her danger was love. Danger was going to university or sitting around with friends on a Saturday night watching old holofilms to which her parents used to laugh and cry, no worries except for if Face Loran was cuter than Tetran Cowell. Danger was ... well, danger could even be the military, or be the foreign service, as long as it was in another time, or another place, anywhere other than a place when she'd be a Skywalker or a Solo or the granddaughter of a long-dead Sith Lord. So many possibilities! they presented themselves in ripples, forming coecentric streams of choice. 

Maybe that's why she loved the beach, with the waves that came in and offered to her new lives, whispering seductively. And with the sand, that still tied her to her family, her childhood, playing with boys in the sandbox. 

And here she was, in a much bigger sandbox, with a much bigger boy. 

No, he was a man, no matter how much she teased him about being a big baby. A handsome man at that. Besides, he made her laugh. 

She turned to him. He was under an umbrella for fear of the sunburn with which he always was inflicted, no matter what precautions he took, whenever they visited a water world. 

"Too scared to come out in the sunlight?" she teased. 

"On my world they call people like that vampires." He noticed her intrigued expression and explained the mythology. "As a kid, I was fascinated by vampire films, but they always gave me bad dreams," he concluded. 

"I used to dream a lot as a kid. I still do." She took a deep breath and prepared to drop the bombshell. "I dreamt about you. A lot. Especially in the past year." 

She thought that Tom wouldn't have understood the significance at first, and that she would have to explain that she actually *saw* him. But no, from his expression, Tom understood. 

"Ditto. I did too," he said with total seriousness. "I can recount every one." 

"No way." 

"I'm serious!" He smiled nervously. "I've always wondered if you had had those same dreams. Especially after our first meeting." His smile grew more nervous. "Is this a little weird to you?" 

"No, dreams are an intregral part of the Force, I think. It's weird, but no cause for alarm." 

She could see Tom visibly relax. "Hey, we should probably tell your parents that; they don't seem to like me very much, so maybe it'll calm 'em down that we were destined for each other." "Tom, they like you. They're just a bit protective, that's all, especially Mother. But don't tell them about the dreams. Mom for some reason tenses up whenever I mention fate or anything similar. You know," she confided, kissing him gently on the lips, "my parents actually thought I was crazy when I was little." She giggled. "I was a little devil, but I think they overreacted a bit." "That reminds me of a holostory Kath... Captain Janeway...used to like, before she figured out how boring it was. It was based on this story called 'Turn of the Screw,' and this governess who thought her charges were possessed." "Were they?" Ahna loved to hear about Tom's culture. "That's the beauty of the novel. We never really know, although we are led to believe that the governess was just a bit mentally ill." "Maybe she was Force sensitive." "Maybe." 

___________________________________ GFFA -- Corusca Gem Cirle -- 1 month ago. 

"Maybe *this* will work," she sighed aloud, infinitely frustrated. For someone who lived a life of endless action, Mara Jade certainly spent large amounts of time in that secluded library. 

The advantages of that reality, however, were that she knew the ins and outs of the research center. Which wasn't helping her a whit that day. 

To tell the truth, she *had* made some progress, more than she had ever expected. Sending Voyager home had become her personal goal, ostensibly because a.) she had nothing better to do; b.) Jacen had assigned the project to her; c.) Ahna had a personal stake in this; d.)she had nothing b etter to do...."Oh, no, that wasn't the answer." She sighed, and rolling her eyes, recited the answer that Luke and Jacen had grilled into her. "Oh, I'm *glad* to help! A Jedi above all else is the protector of the galaxy, and on this day, I become the protector of those from other galaxies." 

Not the way she would have said it, but she *did* believe it. But above all other reasons, reason c was the main motivation for Mara. Ahna had a personal stake in this. She wanted to help her new friends. . .and Tom Paris. 

As for Mara, reason c meant that she wanted to send Tom Paris *home* -- not that she didn't like him. That was exactly the problem; he was the kind of guy that she would have found fun in her younger days, and Mara did not want her daughter emulating the life and times of the young Mara Jade. 

Mara shook her head and focused again on the screen. She had hit a dead end after finding out while doing research on the area around Coruscant, that about a milennia ago, there was a plan to reach other galaxy by folding space that supposedly failed. But really, the portal actually formed, and that's what Voyager fell through. She knew *what*, she knew *who*, but *how*? 

Historical background was not enough if one did not have the scientific elements and ability to make the research worthwhile. 

If she could gain access to the technologically advanced Voyager -- well, maybe not advanced, since the Republic had been around millenia before their Federation, but at least technogically different, at least, in terms of scientific research, maybe she could -- 

Her screen suddenly rippled and flashed. "Who in the space has the guts to bug me now?" she wondered aloud, waiting for the speaker to appear on the monitor. "If it's Luke, I swear--" 

She was interrupted by Han. Wonderful. 

*Old fart* she sent to him. Not that he could hear her without the Force, but it was fun to insult him anyway. Especially because he had ruined her concentration. 

" . . .So, here I was ..." he began. 

Mara rolled her eyes. "Do you mind, Solo? I'm kinda busy here." 

Han flashed his yellowed teeth. *At least he still HAS teeth* "I think you want to hear this, Jade. So here I was, minding my own business, when I started looking at old holos of family vacations. And Leia's sitting next to me, and next thing I know, I'm asking her, 'So Princess, I've always wondered, how DID you know that I once bathed with a Hutt?' And so my dear wife thought back, and she finally said, 'Actually, Mara told me one day.' So now I'm asking you. How the heck did YOU know what I did or did not do on Ylesia?" 

Mara growled. "Since you get to ramble on and interrupt my work, I'll do some rambling in order to give you my answer. Ready?" She took a deep breath. "TopSecretMissionInfiltrateRebelsBriaGossip. I often chatted with Rebel operatives so they didn't notice the way I surveyed my surroundings. The woman unfortunate enough to have been your lover was only too eager to bring your heroic butt down a notch. Not that she didn't miss you something terrible." 

Han hesitated a bit, frowning. "Mara, I may be old, but if memory serves ...Bria Tharen died when you were just a teenager. You would have been only starting to go on missions for the Emperor. That's stretching the timeline a bit." 

Mara looked confused. "Han, I was in my twenties. This was after the Battle of Yavin...in fact, maybe after Hoth." 

"Oh my ..." 

"Solo, you're starting to sound like Threepio," espoused a worried Mara, trying to lighten the mood. 

Curiously, Han didn't even crack a smile. 

She knew the news must have hurt him, even if the pain was decades old. If she had known of the misconception, she would have told him long ago that Bria had been alive and well. "Unfortunately, I have no idea if that's the case now. There's nothing I can do for him." Sighing, Mara continued with her research. 

Her stomach rumbled a bit. "Not again," she whispered, waiting for the nausea to subside. She closed her eyes briefly and bowed her head, but she didn't leave the library. "There's no way Mara Jade's going to give up just because she feels a little sick." 

___________________________________ GFFA -- Somewhere in a Jeffries tube -- 1 month ago. 

"Tom Paris, you make me sick," she announced suddenly, pointing her finger at him. 

He eyed her warily. "What? You don't like my idea for a creative picnic? Name your desires, dearheart. Shall we paint the Jeffries tube to look like the sky on a warm summer's day? Music? Flowers? Name it -- I've got it." 

"That's exactly it." Ahna pursed her lips in frustration. Tom watched her in interest. *What's bugging her now?* 

"You . . .you do all these things for me, sometimes funny, or sweet, or romantic, or all three at once, like this picnic in the innards of your ship, but never ever will you tell me that you love me." 

Oh. That was the problem. Again. "I've told you many times, Ahna." 

"But not enough. I need to *hear* it." Her face began to take the look of when she got into an intense diplomatic negotiation. He'd better stop her before she caught him saying something he didn't mean to say. 

"The reason," he began slowly -- *for the thousandth time* he thought to himself -- "The reason I rarely say it to you is because I used to say it to other girls all the time without meaning it. I'd rather show it that say it." 

The expression on her face betrayed how much she hated that explanation. "Uh huh. Even my mother tells my father that she loves him. And if you know my mother, that takes some serious pride-swallowing." 

"Maybe when *I'm* some evil-eyed hag with false teeth I'll swallow my pride." 

"Tom!" The word came out in choking laughter. 

"I'm joking, I'm joking. No, honey, I just don't want to jinx our love. When things go right for me, life always falls apart. I just want to live in this moment a little bit longer before it goes Kaput." 

Ahna stroked his hair affectionately, but Tom knew that she could see his self-pity begin to form yet again. "You are *so* doubting, Thomas!" 

Tom laughed outright. It was a bitter laugh. "I wouldn't compare me to a Biblical character, honey. Unless my messiah were you. But then you'd have to die first. Not good." 

Ahna sat with her mouth wide open. Obviously the allusion was lost on her. 

He sighed. "Never mind." Now how was he supposed to make her laugh if they didn't even have a culture in common? 

"You don't have to make me laugh, Tom. I'm crazy about *you*, not your wit." How'd she ..."Hey! Get out of my brain. Stop doing that! It freaks me out." "Only if you tell me you love me." 

Her playful attitude dissolved his pessimism. "If you can read my thoughts you know that --" "Nuh-uh. We're not going down that road again. You know I have to hear it." "Hey," he said with mock outrage as the Jeffries tube again became aglow with warmth and happiness, "I think you should be grateful. If the Voyager crew hadn't decided to learn Basic, you wouldn't have been able to even talk to me. Count your blessings." "Oh, give me a break." Jokingly incensed, she attempted to stand up but aborted the plan when she realized where she was. "Our languages are so similar. It was easy for you!" "Uh-huh. Let's hear you speak Federation Standard." "Hey, pouty butt,I'm learning! I just didn't feel the need since you know Basic." "From now on you speak in Standard, and I'll answer in Basic." "You have got to be kidding." "I don't kid a kid. "Huh? 

"See! You have a lot to learn." 

___________________________________ GFFA -- Mess Hall (Voyager) -- 1 month ago "Watch and learn," Tom told Ahna a few days later. "Oh, and an addenum to my earlier comment about kidding a kid: Krazy kooky kids kan be a konsiderable ekseption. This will be a case in point." 

Ahna just shook her head and followed him. 

Kathryn, with Mara, watched the two of them go by. "What are they *up* to?" she groaned. 

"Oh, stop being such a mother hen, Janeway. I'm sure they're just going to play another joke on their friends." 

" 'Playing a joke on their friends.' One's a senior officer; the other is an ambassador. I feel old, and I'm only 45. This damn crew is doing it to me." 

Mara smiled down maternally at the younger woman. "Don't worry,dear," she said, patting her arm, "when I was 45 I had a 3yr old." 

"I don't even have a kid." 

"You may be more fortunate than you know," Mara deadpanned. 

The two redheads snorted to themselves and went back to work. 

"Maybe some brain food would help," suggested Kathryn helpfully. 

Perkily: "Just jolt our juices and we'll be jamming, Janeway." 

"Oh goodness. Tom got you, too?" 

Mara looked up in surprise. "Tom started that? Luke does it all the time!" 

"That's our Paris. Always with the fads." 

Kathryn couldn't understand why the older woman's expression suddenly turned sour. "Hmm," she said, and began to stare at the screen. 

So Kathryn gave up the small talk and began to stare as well. Suddenly she smiled to herself and began to enter calculations based on the anamoly's data. 

Passersby later would swear that as they worked, their minds became interconnected, like two robots finding each other to be kin. 

Side by side, merely mumbling, linked by the common bonds of hair and chutzpah, they grunted through their research with efficiency rivaling that of the erstwhile speed-demon Seven of Nine. 

Kathyrn: .....large amounts of what you call "vorom radiation." 

Mara: artificial radiation created by someone .... Tera Vorom millennia ago. He was the pioneer of .... 

Janeway: hmmm. ...space folders common in our galaxy too 

Mara: goes with my research ...tears formed around same time...vorom radiation integral to formatio... 

Janeway: can we recreate it? 

Mara: the other end drifts. Would have to make calculations to figure out where it will end up. 

Sighing happily in unison, they looked up and silently agreed to go into "scientific mode" -- as if they hadn't been in one earlier. They realized that by doing research on the original portal, they could figure out how to re-create it and get back to the Delta Quadrant. 

"With the same technology, we might be able to get back to the Alpha Quadrant," whispered Kathryn in wonder. 

Their curious comaderie was broken as a chittering gya fly bounded out of Neelix's cooking pot in obvious pain and landed with a yelp on Seven's back. 

"See!" they heard Tom yell triumphantly, "that's what you call 'out of the frying pan and into the fire'." 

Kathryn shook her head as if coming out of a stupor."Neelix!" called she. "Coffee. Please." 

Mara grinned. "I know the feeling. Get me another one of those special drinks you started making, will you, Naima?" 

Janeway leaned toward Mara as Seven contemplated the curious creature attached to her. "Don't tell me they hurt it." 

Mara snorted. "Oh no, don't worry. Gya flies get constant muscle spasms during their mating season. Your pilot must have just planted a harmonizer to simulate one of their hormonal symphonies. Rather clever for someone new to this galaxy, actually." 

"Don't start getting him citizenship papers just yet. We're counting on getting home, Tom Paris included." 

She knew that people, behind her back, called her "General Loran's little nervous aide," but she never let that bother her, especially because the little nervous aide had been promoted as Mrs. Skywalker's assistant. Working with her was a lot less nerve-racking than working with someone in the military. And the fact that General Loran had recommended her, based on her extraordinately creative and intelligent mind, must have meant that she wasn't that bad of an aide to him. 

Naima looked fondly upon her mentor. Mrs. Skywalker had known Naima's late mother, Tionne, and had been there for her when she and her father Kyp died in a spacing accident years ago...years before their time. 

She ... she frowned. Her mother had appeared to her in spirit form two weeks ago. That surprised her, because she had thought that she had no Force ability. *But then again, Mother's ability in the Force was extremely weak. I probably had even less ability than she did, and just didn't know it. Maybe now, for some reason, Father's power has asserted itself in me.* 

But why now? And why did her mother tell her to put huahs powder in Mrs. Skywalker's drinks? *Such a nice old lady ..* But Naima had always done what her kind mother had told her. *Huahs powder...that only gives you a minor illness. Why would Mother want Mrs. Skywalker to get sick?* If the powder had been fatal, Naima never would have done it. *But if she's just getting sick, it must have been a side effect that Mother never intended. Maybe it's a cure for something.* 

Naima didn't want to think about it anymore. Her nervousness was coming back. Fighting her nervousness meant fighting the block on her intellectual powers. So she went and served Mrs. Skywalker her favorite drink. 

Mara turned to Janeway as she sipped her drink. "You know, you and me, we're a lot alike." 

"It must be the hair," the captain deadpanned. ______________________________________ GFFA -- Lieutenant Paris' quarters -- NOW 

*He was probably a lot like me when he was younger,* Tom concluded, watching the old man speak. 

Luke turned to him, and Tom turned his attention back to the subject at hand. The subject? The Force, as usual. Tom wanted to talk to him about the *war*, about *flying*, anything but the Force. *Oh well.* 

"Did you ever have bad dreams about previously good subjects?" Luke asked out of the blue. 

Tom thought back. "Yeah," he said slowly. "There was this recurring dream about a beautiful girl --" he didn't dare mention that it was Luke's daughter -- "and weeks later in the dream there's this forboding sense of *danger*." 

"Ah." Luke nodded. "Don't let that scare you. More often than not, recurring dreams that follow that pattern are not prophetic. They're usually consistent if they are. The reason I asked is that in novice Jedi or people who are not even aware of their Force abilities, such dreams hint at a revealation of their powers. For you, most likely, the dream turning scary signified your eventual discovery of your Force ability." 

*Sigmuend Freud's in the house* Tom thought to himself. He didn't dare say anything aloud because 1.) From previous experience with Ahna, Tom knew that Luke wouldn't get it, which made the whole exercise pointless, and 2.) He could extend that into some adolescent joke, wihch wouldn't be advisable around some old dude who was considered a galactic hero and who would rather talk about mystic stuff instead of flying an X-wing. 

*Whaddya know, Paris -- you've learned tact.* 

The only problem was, Luke probably knew exactly what he was thinking. 

Later, as Luke walked out the door, Tom turned toward the star-- no, not the stars. He sighed, not for the first time. For six months, Voyager had been on the Coruscant moon, and he still wasn't used to it. 

"Man, do I want to *fly*." The X-wings were what beckoned him. They were the ultimate cool toy, better than the boxy shuttles with which *he* was acquainted. 

The doorchime buzzed, and in walked THE ultimate cool toy. *She's got curves like those X-wings.* Ahna looked at him, frowned. 

"What in Space's name are you blathering about now?" 

Before he could answer, or ask why she insisted on reading his mind, she strode across the room, sat down next to a viewport, took a PADD out of her pocket, stared at it, and put her head down. 

Tom looked over Ahna's shoulder. "What in Space's name are you looking at?" he asked, mocking her. Tom was surprised by her mournful tone. 

"My uncle...he was staring at this picture a few weeks ago. He said it was of an old lover that he just found out didn't die when he thought she did. I ... I sat there and talked with him, and he was...Tom, he was grieving for a woman that he had put out of his heart more than forty years ago. I've never been in love before, Tom, not really, and now I'm wondering how I would handle it if I ever lost you." 

"You won't lose me," Tom said firmly. *What in Space's name am I doing?* 

"Yeah? Then what will we do when we repair Voyager, Tom? What will we do when the awesome creative team of you + I figure out all the navigational data, the anamolies? How can honestly do my best work, knowing that success means letting you go?" 

Tom felt his resolve harden. "Come with me." 

"What?" That was out loud. Mentally, she sent to him: *Are you thinking with that pea-sized brain of yours again?* 

Tom pretended that he couldn't comprehend the telepathy. "You heard me. Come with me." 

"Tom, this is sudden." She frowned, stood, and began to pace. 

"Well, Bob's your uncle," he replied jauntily. 

"What?" she giggled, trying to make a joke. "No, Han Solo is." 

"Shut up. It's an Australian expression for 'no matter.' Or maybe it's British. I'm not sure. Anyway, so what if it's sudden? Think about it for awhile." 

Ahna sighed. "Bob's your uncle?" 

He grinned. "I spent two years in Auckland ...which, by the way, is in New Zealand, NOT in Australia, like I used to think...saying that after I heard an inmate say it the first night. It rather amused me." 

Ahna nodded. "Ah. Many things amuse you. I see." 

"Shut up." 

"You keep saying that and I'll change my mind about coming with you." 

"Huh?" 

"For once! Tom Paris is speechless! Yes, don't ask me why, but yes. I give myself to you. I'm coming." 

Tom tried to interject. "Oh..honey..hon.." 

"Besides, it'll be a new experience." 

"Sweethear..I lov--thank you." 

"I'm an explorer at heart, you know." She switched tracks. "You still can't say it,can you." It was an accusation. 

Tom shook his head no. 

"Ah, well, Bob's your uncle." She smiled jauntily, aping Tom, then kissed him and walked out the door as abruptly as she had come in. 

Tom sighed. "Why do I get the feeling she's got me wrapped around her little finger?" 

_____________________________________________ GFFA -- Captain Janeway's ready room- Now 

"Ah-HAH!" she cried triumphantly, standing up out of her chair and sending her index finger flying in the general direction of the screen. "THAT's a wrap. That stupid equation was getting ready to defeat me, but oh no, I won't let it stop us from getting home." 

"Um, Captain?" 

Kathryn Janeway looked up at her visitor sheepishly. "Am I getting carried away?" 

"Maybe you should lay off of that coffee. Besides, I've been waiting forever for you to acknowledge me and help me out here." 

Kathryn gave a sardonic half-smile and tossed it to him. "Ah,the Incredible Sulk returns. I tell you, I should charge you by the hour." 

Tom grinned. "Harry keeps thanking me for finding other people's shoulders to cry on." He leaned in. "But secretly," he whispered, "I do believe he rather misses it." 

" 'I do believe he rather misses it.' Why Tom, I do believe your speech is getting more refined by the day!" Kathryn smiled -- again sardonically. 

Tom growled. "I was imitating your vocal mannerisms. But,to tell the truth, it's Ahna's fault. Which brings me to my request." 

"Shh. Stop a second and sit serenely before you insist on beseiging me with stupid stuff." 

"It's not stupid. And you're getting really good at that." Kathryn flashed a genuine smile. "Really? Thanks. What do you need, Mr. Paris?" 

Tom stood up at attention. "Permission to grant Ambassador Ahna Skywalker a permanent position on Voyager." 

"Ah," said Kathryn, intrigued. "And what would the esteemed ambassador be able to give us in terms of service that she cannot give to her own people?" 

"She'll be *equally* as valuable to us as to her own people. Now we don't have to rely solely on Neelix as an ambassador of Voyager. She also can give us a different perspective on our technological innovations and problems as a resident of another galaxy. In addition --" 

Kathryn interrupted him with a wave of her hand. "Quite a list you've devined there, Mr. Paris. But here's a few problems. Ahna has no reason to go with us. There is no situation dealing with political asylum. What if she changes her mind? Voyager is not a pleasure cruise." 

Tom looked at her accusingly. "You let Neelix and Kes come along." 

"Neelix and Kes had already been separated from their people. And we needed them." 

"You can use Ahna." 

She sighed. "We may have reason to have her, but she has no reason to ask for a position. What's her motivation?" 

"How 'bout 'she loves me'. Is that good enough?" 

"Watch the tone," said Kathryn warningly. "What happens when something wrong goes between you two?" 

Tom grimaced at the thought of anything going wrong between them. It would be his and B'Elanna's story all over again. But Ahna wasn't B'Elanna. She was perfect. "If it does... which it won't...Ahna has an explorer's heart. She's not gonna be here for only me." 

Kathryn smiled indulgently. "I'll have to think about it." 

A feral grin. "Would it help if she asked for political asylum?" 

Confused. "From what?" 

"Boredom." 

Kathryn laughed. "I don't think so. I'll see, Tom. Does anyone else know?" 

Tom closed his eyes. This *would* be the time to bring it up. "No," he conceded. "No..and they can't. No one would be happy about it." 

"So in other words they'll think that we will have abducted her." 

"She'll let her folks know right before we leave. C'mon, Kathryn. Please. For the sake of love." 

He watched her carefully. "I'll think about it," she said, "but I have serious reservations." 

Kathryn continued to talk to him after her pronouncement. "I've missed you, you know." 

"I know," he said. He joked,"But you and Chakotay...well, you've seemed to get over me pretty quickly." 

"Funny," she shot back at him. She started to fiddle with her commbadge. "I shouldn't be telling you this, especially since you've fallen in love, but there *is* one person who hasn't gotten over you." 

"Who?" 

She looked away. "B'Elanna. She misses you." 

Tom grinned with a 'come one, come all' gesture. "Wow, three women fighting over me." 

Huh? "Three?" 

"I knew about you. But I also knew that I'm not right for you. You deserve better." 

*He knew?!? I'm gonna kill him.* Kathryn smiled tightly. "Don't do me any favors, Paris. But don't worry. I'm way over you." 

"And B'Elanna will get over me too. I love Ahna." 

"Have you told her?" 

"She knows." 

*Uh-huh. He avoided that one like a . . .* Kathryn smiled at him. "I smell conflict." 

"Tell me, Kathryn, am I wrong to be a little scared? I mean...Ahna calls me a pessimist, but --" 

"But you can't help wondering when the bubble will burst," she finished for him. 

"Yeah, that's it exactly." 

Kathryn put her elbows on her desk and got comfortable. "You poor, deluded child. You've needed me to keep you straight all these months. Let me tell you something about love and loss, and the neccessity of enjoying the moment . . ." 

Tom walked back to his dark quarters, tripped, cursed. "Lights!" he called. He bent over to pick up the PADD...or datapad, he guessed she called it ...that Ahna had accidentally left in his quarters. He looked at the picture of Ahna's uncle's supposed-dead former lover. He swore. 

Tom ran into Kathryn's ready room. 

"Back so soon?" 

Tom explained how he had found the picture. "It's my ...she's my mother," he concluded. 

"Excuse me?" 

"That picture....it's a picture of my mother." 

______________________________________ GFFA -- Corusca Gem Circle -- Now 

"IF this pain," she mumbled, "gets any worse, I'll be calling for my mother." Mara knew she wouldn't die. But she was getting sicker. And it was getting serious. 

Mara had felt so absurdly sick that she had almost thought of skipping the emergency meeting called by Kathryn Janeway that morning. 

Luke had pointed his finger at her. "She's a redhead, Mara. You know how redheads get when people go against their wishes." 

"Kathryn Janeway," she had retorted, "Kathryn Janeway doesn't own me. I don't have to show up to some meeting called because some junior officer overreacted about some calculation." 

But knowing Janeway and the fact that she did not have a penchant for frivolity, Mara had gone, despite the pain. She was glad she did. 

There hadn't been many people present at the briefing: that Vulcan Tuvok, Janeway, Han, herself, Tom Paris, and Luke. Mara had looked around, incredibly confused, still not sure what it was all about but knowing it was something unusual. 

She thought back to the conversation after Tom Paris opened the meeting by showing two pictures side by side: that of his mother, and that of Bria Tharen. 

*************** . . .They figured that Bria had somehow ended up in Voyager's galaxy forty years ago and married Owen Paris and had had Tom. Perhaps it was through the tears, but what was confusing was that the other end of the tear was in the Delta Quadrant, not the Alpha Quadrant. 

"Are you certain this is her?" asked Luke. "Did she ever say anything to you?" 

"This is ridiculous!" Mara interjected. She knew it was probably the truth, but . . . "The galaxy doesn't work this way! I've already commented on the abundance of deus ex machina's in my life; what the hell is this called? Okay, who got ahold of the datapad? This story is getting ridiculous." 

Everyone stared at her for a second. "Mara and Luke have a theory that their lives are being run by an amateur author," Han said by way of apology. 

"She died when I was a toddler," Tom continued, ignoring the outburst. Tom's mother's name was Brenna Todd, he explained. 

"Close enough," grunted Han. "I guess that explains why Luke says you're Force-sensitive. I had a feeling that was unique to our galaxy." 

"But was Bria Tharen a Jedi?" asked Kathryn. 

Luke explained. "No. Although it's not as common, the Force isn't neccessarily hereditary." 

Han grumbled. "But eyes are. She had eyes like yours. Turquoise but then they would change to a storm of gray --" he stopped, embarrased. 

Tuvok cut in. "This is an impossibility." 

"What is?" Janeway asked. 

"The last time anyone ever saw Bria Tharen was forty years ago. Is that correct, Jedi Skywalker?" 

Mara nodded affirmatively. 

"Mr. Paris is thirty years old." 

Tom grinned. "That sounds about right to me. My parents were married a few years before I was born ...they probably met forty years ago. I'm not entirely sure." 

Kathryn's eyes widened. "But our galaxies have different time constants. Forty years ago for you would probably be about two and a half years ago for us. It *is* impossible." 

Han turned to Mara. "I've always wondered --" 

"Famous last words," Mara mumbled. 

"--you infiltrated a Rebel base and Bria was there? Even the Alliance thought Bria died when I thought she did. How is *that* possible?" 

"Didn't you understand my rambling answer? The base was top secret! Hardly anyone knew of their project, much less of the people working there." 

"So what was their project?" Kathryn asked, intruiged. 

"Their project was ..." Mara swore. "Time travel. *That's* how it could have happened. She could have accidentally travelled to forty, or at least over thirty, years ago by your galaxy's calculations. No wonder the project was eventually discontinued! If enough people screwed up and ended up in different times AND places. . . ."************ 

And they had decided to leave it at that. They had had no more possibilities to explore. 

"What a coincidence," Tom had mused. 

Luke had looked over at him. "Perhaps it isn't. Perhaps it is the Force." 

_______________________________________ GFFA -- Corusca Gem Circle -- Not very long ago at all 

The forces of love were pulling her in opposite directions. 

Captain Janeway had finally approved her request for a permanent position on Voyager, with reservation, of course, that her leaving her galaxy was known to only herself, Tom, and the captain. 

Ahna had decided to leave, for love. 

Yet, in the same vein, should she stay -- for love? Ahna had not yet told her parents what she was planning to do. Why she hesitated from the truth she still could not understand, no matter how hard she tried. 

She wanted to find her own destiny. She felt guilty about leaving them (yes, that was it. That was why she hadn't told them yet), but it had to be done. She had to find her own destiny, not that of her grandfather, or aunt, or uncle, or mother, or father. She felt stifled, forced into one role. She felt as though she could have no weakness, no fault. She had to be it all. The only child of Master and Jedi Skywalker had to have only strengths, only pluses, no minuses. 

She loved her parents. But her parents never knew their own parents. She had had twenty three years of bliss. If they could go their whole lives without maternal or paternal love, Ahna could go for the next half of hers -- maybe for more, maybe forever. 

Maybe in another galaxy she could just be Ahna. Not the legendary and powerful Ambassador. For even in her young life, Ahna had taken on quite a status of her own, helped not only by the incredible outpouring of public interest at her birth but by Ahna's formidable talents, outgoing personality, and beautiful looks. 

Tom and Ahna had decided that she would let her parents know one hour before Voyager was to take off. That way maybe her mother wouldn't so regret being instrumental in finding a way to Voyager's galaxy that she would sabatoge Voyager's systems in revenge for corrupting her daughter. 

"Would she really do that?" Tom had asked, worried. 

Ahna smiled. She hadn't been sure how to answer that. 

Then she frowned. It had seemed so simple. But then Mother had to get sick. 

She couldn't leave them now. Not with Mother lying there pale in a white bed surrounded by gleaming Too-One-Bee medical droids. Everything was white, light, shining. Mother swore that she was okay. Ahna knew that she was, to a point. Mother wouldn't die. Ahna could *sense* that.Ahna looked over at her mother, and her eyes filled up with tears. She blinked them back. No, she had to be strong. She was Ahna Jade Skywalker, and she belonged in her galaxy. The galaxy where she had to be perfect. 

And perfect people didn't cry. 

"I have to go now, Mother," she said. Go? Not with Tom. She was going to go back to work. She just had to see someone first. 

"Wasn't there something you wanted to tell us, sweetheart?" Mara looked at her daughter and smiled weakly. 

Ahna opened her mouth, closed it again. Maybe she *should* go with Tom. She would never have the opportunity again. She tried once more. "Well, um ..." 

Luke furrowed his brow. "Ahna?" he prompted. 

Ahna knew her mother wouldn't die. Ahna knew that she should not change her life plans for a mere illness. Yet, that was exactly what she was going to do. Why? She didn't know. No...she did. It was not that her mother was sick. But...it was. It was a wake-up call for her. That was it. She was blinded by love, and then she realized that love worked in many ways. Love between her parents. HER love FOR her parents. She couldn't, wouldn't, disrupt the lives of those who loved her for only ONE love. She loved everyone around her as passionately as she loved Tom Paris. Love was not exclusive. Ahna sat for a moment, digested exactly what her brain had said to her. And then Ahna Skywalker grew up. 

"I, um, just wanted to tell you both that I love you." Without waiting for an answer, she made an about-face and walked out the door. 

"That was close," Mara mused. "I was afraid she was going to ask about the meeting, or why we were acting so nervous." "I'm not so sure I like the idea of hiding this from her," said Luke, stroking his wife's feverish forehead. 

"So she doesn't know that her boyfriend has ties to our galaxy. So what? She'll never see him again anyway." She sat up and waved the droids away. "Leave me alone you buckets of bolts. I'm not a helpless hag." 

"So why are you hiding it from her?" Luke smiled in assurance at the droids and let them out the door. "I know, I know, so she won't miss Tom more ... but I think you have another agenda." 

"Bria was a time traveler," she said, lying back down wearily on her bed. 

"Huh?" 

"She probably accidentally jumped many times and places before she ended up in Tom Paris' galaxy with Tom Paris' father. She probably jumped centuries...forward and backward." 

"Probably," he conceded. 

Mara coughed. "If she jumped forward, maybe she witnessed the havoc wracked by a little blonde girl." 

Luke groaned. She wasn't delirious, was she? "Not that prophesy again . . ." 

"And if she then jumped backward, millenia backward, and thought she was stuck there, maybe she decided to write down what she had seen to warn that girl's parents. And because she wasn't a Jedi, she was laughed off, especially by the scholars who studied her writings centuries later. But that doesn't mean she wasn't telling the truth." 

"Mar --" 

"I just don't want to mention my idea to Ahna and have her decide that she wants to test that little prophesy out. You know how she likes danger." 

"Mar-" 

"Yes, sweetums?" 

"Please tell me you're joking." 

"Of course I am." 

"Will you shut up?" he asked affectionately as she began to drift off to sleep. 

"Of course." "Luke?" she asked sleepily. 

"Yes, Mara." 

"I may be joking ... but what if I'm right?" 

_______________________________________ Yesterday on the Coruscant Moon 

"If this is some kind of joke . . ." he said aloud. 

Tom stood outside, next to an entryway into Voyager. It was that damned wind again, whirling things around and just making a general mess of things. Tom preferred the artificial atmosphere of Earth's moon. "Civilized people *control* the elements." 

The wind sure would make take-off a bear. But God, to be able to see stars from Voyager's viewports once again. He would give anything . . . and with Ahna by his side . . . 

But that wind . . .why was it bothering him? Wind was good. The Wright Brothers could not have flown without wind. The ancient sailing ships Tom adored could not have gone without wind. Wind made things work. It was the Moon's witness, that force which equalized meter and rhyme. Wind was change, too. 

He stared at his chronometer, sat down, paced, sat down again. Then he stared into the distance and saw the love of his life approaching. 

Tom jumped to his feet, opened his mouth in greeting, and saw the look on her face. 

"You're not coming," he stated flatly. 

Ahna looked away guiltily. "Tom, I can't leave my parents --" 

"You don't need to explain." *Damn* it, already! 

"Yes, I do. You're mad. listen, I ... just...*can't* go. Don't ask me why. It's my family, my friends, my life I've established...but it's not. Just trust me on this one, love. I *can't*. Something's just warning me away. I feel like the spirits are on my side. So many! I see a woman with blonde hair and a lyre, and another with red hair like my mother's was....As for my mother ... she's *so sick* --" 

The bubble had burst. Tom's temper had burst. *Damn* it. "How do you think I felt...or heck, how the whole crew of Voyager felt, when we all got lost in the Delta Quadrant? Or how we felt when we ended up *here* across the universe seemingly without any hope of ever getting back to even our own galaxy? Ahna, it'll be hard, but you have *me*." He felt himself becoming desperate. "We can do this together. Your family... they can live without you. I can't." 

Ahna stared up at him. "If there's one t hing about you, it's that you're a selfish bastard." 

"That's why you fell for me." Please, oh dear God ,please don't let her get away . . . 

"Tom --" 

"I can't convince you, can I." No! "No." 

"I'll try anyway." He took a deep breath, looked to the side for momentary reflection. Turning back to her: "Ahna, I love you." The words echoed on the solitary moon. 

Tom felt his heart break as Ahna's eyes welled up with tears. "I know," she whispered, and walked away, the wind rustling her dress in an undulating pattern of possibility. 

SO, WHAT WOULD HAVE HAPPENED? 

Do you want an Epilogue? Well, you have to work for it and give me some story suggestions! 


End file.
